LOUISA  M.ALCOTT 


• 


THREE  PROVERB  STORIES. 


BY  LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT, 

AUTHOR  OP  "HOODS/'  "LITTLE  WOMEN,"  " AN  OLD-FASHIONED  GIRL." 

- 

KITTY'S     CLASS-DAY- 

"  A  Stitch  in  time  saves  Nine." 

AUNT    KIPP, 

"  Children  and  Fools  speak  the  Truth" 

^SYCHE'S      y\RT. 

"  Handsome  is  that  Handsome  Does." 


Ellustrateti  fcg  Augustus 


LORING-,    Publislier, 

205    WASHINGTON    STREET, 
BOSTON. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 
A.    K.    LOR  ING, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of 
Massachusetts. 


Rockwell  A  Churchill,  Printers  and  Stereotypes, 
122  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


I 

KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 


"  A  stitch  in  time  saves  nine. 


"  O  PHIS,  Pris,  I'm  really  going  !  Here's  the 
invitation  —  rough  paper  —  Chapel  —  spreads  — 
Lyceum  Hall  —  everything  splendid  ;  and  Jack 
to  take  care  of  me  ! " 

As  Kitty  burst  into  the  room  and  performed 
a  rapturous  pas  seul,  waving  the  cards  over  her 
head,  sister  Priscilla .  looked  up  from  her  work 
with  a  smile  of  satisfaction  on  her  quiet  face. 

"Who  invites  you,  dear?" 

"Why,  Jack,  of  course,  —  dear  old  cousin 
Jack.  Nobody  else  ever  thinks  of  me,  or  cares 
whether  I  have  a  bit  of  pleasure  now  and  then. 

M124836 * 


4       •••;;::     ;  KITTYS  CLASS-DAY. 

Isn't  he  kind?  Mayn't  I  go?  and,  O  Pris,  what 
shall  I  wear?" 

Kitty  paused  suddenly,  as  if  the  last  all-im 
portant  question  had  a  solemnizing  effect  upon 
both  mind  and  body. 

"Why,  your  white  muslin,  silk  sacque,  and 
new  hat,  of  course,"  began  Pris,  with  an  air  of 
surprise.  But  Kitty  broke  in  impetuously  :  — 

w  I'll  never  wear  that  old  muslin  again ;  it's 
full  of  darns,  up  to  my  knees,  and  all  out  of 
fashion.  So  is  my  sacque ;  and  as  for  my  hat, 
though  it  does  well  enough  here,  it  would  be 
absurd  for  Class  Day." 

"  You  don't  expect  an  entirely  new  suit  for 
this  occasion, — do  you?"  asked  Pris,  anx 
iously. 

"  Yes,  I  do,  and  I'll  tell  you  how  I  mean  to 
get  it.  I've  planned  everything ;  for,  though  I 
hardly  dreamed  of  going,  I  amused  myself  by 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  5 

thinking  how  I  could  manage  if  I  did  get  in 
vited." 

"  Let  us  hear."  And  Pris  took  up  her  work 
with  an  air  of  resignation. 

"  First,  my  dress,"  began  Kitty,  perching  her 
self  on  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  and  entering  into  the 
subject  with  enthusiasm.  "  I've  got  the  ten  dol 
lars  grandpa  sent  me,  and  with  eight  of  it  I'm 
going  to  buy  Lizzie  King's  organdie  muslin. 
She  got  it  in  Paris  ;  but  her  aunt  providentially 
—  no,  unfortunately — died;  so  she  can't  wear 
it,  and  wants  to  get  rid  of  it.  She  is  bigger 
than  I  am,  you  know ;  so  there  is  enough  for  a 
little  mantle  or  sacque,  for  it  isn't  made  up. 
The  skirt  is  cut  off  and  gored  lovely,  with  a 
splendid  train  —  " 

"  My  dear,  you  don't  mean  you  are  going  to 
wear  one  of  those  absurd  new-fashioned  dress 
es?"  exclaimed  Pris,  lifting  her  hands  and 
eyes. 


6  KITTY  S    CLASS-DAY. 

"I  do  !  Nothing  would  induce  me  to  go  to 
Class  Day  without  a  train.  It's  been  the  desire 
of  my  heart  to  have  one,  and  now  I  will,  if  I 
never  have  another  gown  to  my  back  !  "  returned 
Kitty,  with  immense  decision. 

Pris  shook  her  head,  and  said,  "  Go  on !  "  as 
if  prepared  for  any  extravagance  after  that. 

"We  can  make  it  ourselves,"  continued  Kitty, 
"and  trim  it  with  the  same.  It's  white,  with 
blue  stripes,  and  daisies  in  the  stripes  ;  the  love 
liest  thing  you  ever  saw,  and  can't  be  got  here. 
So  simple,  yet  distingue,  I  know  you'll  like  it. 
Next,  my  bonnet," — here  the  solemnity  of 
Kitty's  face  and  manner  was  charming  to  be 
hold.  "  I  shall  make  it  out  of  one  of  my  new 
illusion  undersleeves.  I've  never  worn  them ; 
and  the  puffed  part  will  be  a  plenty  for  a  little 
fly-away  bonnet  of  the  latest  style.  I've  got 
blue  ribbons  to  tie  it  with,  and  have  only  to 
look  up  some  daisies  for  the  inside.  With  my 


KITTY'S  CLASS -DAY.  7 

extra  two  dollars  I  shall  buy  my  gloves,  and  pay 
my  fares  —  and  there  I  am,  all  complete." 

She  looked  so  happy,  so  pretty,  and  full  of 
girlish  satisfaction,  that  sister  Pris  couldn't  bear 
to  disturb  the  little  plan,  much  as  she  dis 
approved  of  it.  They  were  poor,  and  every 
penny  had  to  be  counted.  There  were  plenty 
of  neighbors  to  gossip  and  criticise,  and  plenty 
of  friends  to  make  disagreeable  remarks  on  any 
unusual  extravagance.  Pris  saw  things  with  the 
prudent  eyes  of  thirty,  but  Kitty  with  the  ro 
mantic  eyes  of  seventeen ;  and  the  elder  sister, 
in  the  kindness  of  her  heart,  had  no  wish  to  sad 
den  life  to  those  bright  young  eyes,  or  deny  the 
child  a  harmless  pleasure.  She  sewed  thought 
fully  for  a  minute,  then  looked  up,  saying,  with 
the  smile  that  always  assured  Kitty  the  day  was 
won :  — 

"  Get  your  things  together,  and  we  will  see 
what  can  be  done.  But  remember,  dear,  that 


8  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

it  is  both  bad  taste  and  bad  economy  for  poor 
people  to  try  to  ape  the  rich." 

"You're  a  perfect  angel,  Pris ;  so  don't  moral 
ize.  I'll  run  and  get  the  dress,  and  we'll  begin 
at  once,  for  there's  lots  to  do,  and  only  two  days 
to  do  it  in."  And  Kitty  skipped  away,  singing 
"Lauriger  Horatius  "  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

Priscilla  soon  found  that  the  girl's  head  was 
completely  turned  by  the  advice  and  example 
of  certain  fashionable  young  neighbors.  It  was 
in  vain  for  Pris  to  remonstrate  and  warn. 

"Just  this  once  let  me  do  as  others  do,  and 
thoroughly  enjoy  myself,"  pleaded  Kitty;  and 
Pris  yielded,  saying  to  herself,  "  She  shall  have 
her  wish,  and  if  she  learns  a  lesson,  neither  time 
nor  money  will  be  lost." 

So  they  snipped  and  sewed,  and  planned  and 
pieced,  going  through  all  the  alternations  of 
despair  and  triumph,  worry  and  satisfaction, 
which  women  undergo  when  a  new  suit  is  under 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  9 

way.  Company  kept  coming,  for  news  of  Kit 
ty's  expedition  had  flown  abroad,  and  her  young 
friends  must  just  run  in  to  hear  about  it,  and 
ask  what  she  was  going  to  wear ;  while  Kitty 
was  so  glad  and  proud  to  tell,  and  show,  and 
enjoy  her  little  triumph  that  many  half  hours 
were  wasted,  and  the  second  day  found  "  lots  " 
still  to  do. 

The  lovely  muslin  didn't  hold  out,  and  Kitty 
sacrificed  the  waist  to  the  train,  for  a  train  she 
must  have,  or  the  whole  thing  would  be  an  utter 
failure.  A  little  sacque  was  eked  out,  however, 
and  when  the  frills  were  on,  it  was  "  ravishing," 
as  Kitty  said,  with  a  sigh  of  mingled  delight  and 
fatigue.  The  gored  skirt  was  a  fearful  job,  as 
any  one  who  has  ever  plunged  into  the  mysteries 
will  testify;  and  before  the  facing  even  ex 
perienced  Pris  quailed. 

The  bonnet  also  was  a  trial,  for  when  the  lace 
was  on,  it  was  discovered  that  the  ribbons  didn't 


10  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

match  the  dress.  Here  was  a  catastrophe ! 
Kitty  frantically  rummaged  the  house,  the  shops, 
the  stores  of  her  friends,  and  rummaged  in  vain. 
There  was  no  time  to  send  to  the  city,  and  de 
spair  was  about  to  fall  on  Kitty,  when  Pris  res 
cued  her  by  quietly  making  one  of  the  small 
sacrifices  which  were  easy  to  her  because  her 
life  was  spent  for  others.  Some  one  suggested 
a  strip  of  blue  illusion,  —  and  that  could  be  got ; 
but,  alas  !  Kitty  had  no  money,  for  the  gloves 
were  already  bought.  Pris  heard  the  lamenta 
tions,  and,  giving  up  fresh  ribbons  for  herself, 
pulled  her  sister  out  of  a  slough  of  despond  with 
two  yards  of  "heavenly  tulle." 

"  Now  the  daisies ;  and  oh,  dear  me,  not  one 
can  I  find  in  this  poverty-stricken  town,"  sighed 
Kitty,  prinking  at  the  glass,  and  frequently 
hoping  that  nothing  would  happen  to  her  com 
plexion  over  night. 

"I  see  plenty  just  like  those  on  your  dress," 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  11 

answered  Pris,  nodding  toward  the  meadow  full 
of  young  white-weed. 

"Pris,  you're  a  treasure  !  I'll  wear  real  ones  ; 
they  keep  well,  I  know,  and  are  so  common  I 
can  refresh  my  bonnet  anywhere.  It's  a  splen 
did  idea." 

Away  rushed  Kitty,  to  return  with  an  apron 
full  of  American  daisies.  A  pretty  cluster  was 
soon  fastened  just  over  the  left-hand  frizzle  of 
bright  hair,  and  the  little  bonnet  was  complete. 

"Now,  Pris,  tell  me  how  I  look,"  cried  Kitty, 
as  she  swept  into  the  room  late  that  afternoon  in 
full  gala  costume. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  the  prim 
mest,  the  sourest,  or  the  most  sensible  creature 
in  the  world  to  say  that  it  wasn't  a  pretty  sight. 
The  long  train,  the  big  chignon,  the  apology  for 
a  bonnet,  were  all  ridiculous,  —  no  one  could 
deny  that, — but  youth,  beauty,  and  a  happy 
heart  made  even  those  absurdities  charming. 


12  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

The  erect  young  figure  gave  an  air  to  the  crisp 
folds  of  the  delicate  dress ;  the  bright  eyes  and 
fresh  cheeks  under  the  lace  rosette  made  one 
forget  its  size ;  and  the  rippling  brown  hair  won 
admiration  in  spite  of  the  ugly  bunch  which  dis 
figured  the  girl's  head.  The  little  jacket  set 
"divinely,"  the  new  gloves  were  as  immaculate 
as  white  kids  could  be,  and,  to  crown  all,  Lizzie 
King,  in  a  burst  of  generosity,  lent  Kitty  the 
blue  and  white  Paris  sunshade  which  she 
couldn't  use  herself. 

"  Now  I  could  die  content ;  I'm  perfect  in  all 
respects,  and  I  know  Jack  won't  be  ashamed  of 
me.  I  really  owe  it  to  him  to  look  my  best, 
you  know,  and  that's  why  I'm  so  particular," 
said  Kitty,  in  an  apologetic  tone,  as  she  began 
to  lay  away  her  finery. 

"  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  every  minute  of  the 
time,  deary.  Don't  forget  to  finish  running  up 
the  facing;  I've  basted  it  carefully,  and  would 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  13 

do  it  if  my  head  didn't  ache  so  I  really  can't 
hold  it  up  any  longer,"  answered  Pris,  who  had 
worked  like  a  disinterested  bee,  while  Kitty  had 
flown  about  like  a  distracted  butterfly. 

"  Go  and  lie  down,  you  dear,  kind  soul,  and 
don't  think  of  my  nonsense  again,"  said  Kitty, 
feeling  remorseful  till  Pris  was  comfortably 
asleep,  when  she  went  to  her  room  and  revelled 
in  her  finery  till  bedtime.  So  absorbed  was  she 
in  learning  to  manage  her  train  gracefully  that 
she  forgot  the  facing  till  very  late.  Then,  being 
worn  out  with  work  and  worry,  she  did  what 
girls  are  too  apt  to  do,  stuck  a  pin  here  and 
there,  and,  trusting  to  Priscilla's  careful  bast 
ings,  left  it  as  it  was,  retiring  to  dream  of  a 
certain  Horace  Fletcher,  whose  aristocratic  ele 
gance  had  made  a  deep  impression  upon  her 
during  the  few  evenings  she  had  seen  him. 

Nothing  could  have  been  lovelier  than  the 
morning,  and  few  hearts  happier  than  Kitty's  us 


14  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

she  arrayed  herself  with  the  utmost  care,  and 
waited  in  solemn  state  for  the  carriage ;  for 
muslin  trains  and  dewy  roads  were  incom 
patible,  and  one  luxury  brought  another. 

"  My  goodness,  where  did  she  get  that  stylish 
suit?"  whispered  Miss  Smith  to  Miss  Jones,  as 
Kitty  floated  into  the  station  with  all  sail  set, 
finding  it  impossible  to  resist  the  temptation  to 
"  crush "  certain  young  ladies  who  had  snubbed 
her  in  times  past,  which  snubs  had  rankled,  and 
were  now  avenged. 

"  I  looked  everywhere  for  a  muslin  for  to-day 
and  couldn't  find  any  I  liked,  so  I  was  forced  to 
wear  my  mauve  silk,"  observed  Miss  Smith, 
complacently  settling  the  silvery  folds  of  her 
dress. 

"  It's  very  pretty,  but  one  ruins  a  silk  at  Class 
Day,  you  know.  I  thought  this  organdie  would 
be  more  comfortable  and  appropriate  this  warm 
day.  A  friend  brought  it  from  Paris,  and  it's 


15 

like  one  the  Princess  of  Wales  wore  at  the  great 
flower-show  this  year,"  returned  Kitty,  with  the 
air  of  a  young  lady  who  had  all  her  dresses  from 
Paris,  and  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the 

royal  family. 

i 

"  Those  girls  "  were  entirely  extinguished  by 
this  stroke,  and  hadn't  a  word  to  say  for  them 
selves,  while  Kitty  casually  mentioned  Horace 
Fletcher,  Lyceum  Hall,  and  cousin  Jack,  for 
they  had  only  a  little  Freshman  brother  to  boast 
of,  and  were  not  going  to  Lyceum  Hall. 

As  she  stepped  out  of  the  cars  at  Cambridge, 
Jack  opened  his  honest  blue  eyes  and  indulged 
in  a  low  whistle  of  astonishment;  for  if  there 
was  anything  he  especially  hated  it  was  "gowns 
with  tails  to  'em,  knobs,  and  pancakes,"  as  he 
irreverently  called  the  last  fashionable  feminine 
adornments.  He  was  very  fond  of  Kitty,  and 
prided  himself  on  being  able  to  show  his  friends 


16  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

a  girl  who  was  "  stunningly  pretty,"  and  yet  not 
dressed  to  death. 

"She  has  made  a  regular  guy  of  herself;  I 
won't  tell  her  so,  and  the  dear  little  soul  shall 
have  a  jolly  time  in  spite  of  her  fuss  and 
feathers.  But  I  do  wish  she  had  let  her  hair 
alone,  and  worn  that  killing  hat  of  hers." 

As  this  thought  passed  through  Jack's  mind 
he  smiled  and  bowed,  and  made  his  way  among 
the  crowd,  whispering  as  he  drew  his  cousin's 
arm  through  -his  own  :  — 

"I  say,  Kitty,  you're  got  up  regardless,  aren't 
you  ?  I'm  so  glad  you  came  ;  we'll  have  a  rous 
ing  good  time,  and  you  shall  go  in  for  all  the 
fun." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Jack!  Do  I  look  nice, 
really?  I  tried  to  be  a  credit  to  you  and  Pris, 
and  I  did  have  such  a  job  of  it.  I'll  make  you 
shout  over  it  some  time,  A  carriage  for  me? 
Bless  us,  how  fine  we  are ! "  and  Kitty  stepped 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  17 

in,  feeling  that  only  one  thing  more  was  needed 
to  make  her  cup  overflow.  That  one  thing  was 
speedily  vouchsafed,  for  before  her  skirts  were 
smoothly  settled,  Jack  called  out,  in  his  hearty 
way:  — 

"How  are  you,  Fletcher?    If  you  are  bound 
for  Chapel  I'll  take  you  up." 

w  Thanks ;  good-morning,  Miss  Heath." 
It  was  all  done  in  an  instant,  and  the  next 
thing  Kitty  knew  she  was  rolling  away  with  the 
elegant  Horace  sitting  opposite.  How  little  it 
takes  to  make  a  young  girl  happy !  A  pretty 
dress,  sunshine,  and  somebody  opposite,  and 
they  are  blest.  Kitty's  face  glowed  and  dim 
pled  with  pleasure  as  she  glanced  about  her, 
especially  when  she,  sitting  in  state  with  two 
gentlemen  all  to  herself,  passed  "those  girls" 
walking  in  the  dust  with  a  beardless  boy ;  she 
felt  that  she  could  forgive  past  slights,  and  did 
so  with  a  magnanimous  smile  and  bow. 


18  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

Both  Jack  and  Fletcher  had  graduated  the 
year  before,  but  still  look  an  interest  in  their 
old  haunts,  and  patronized  the  fellows  who  were 
not  yet  through  the  mill,  at  least  the  Seniors 
and  Juniors;  of  Sophs  and  Freshs  they  were 
sublimely  unconscious.  Greeted  by  slaps  on 
the  shoulder,  and  hearty  "  How  are  yoUj  old 
fellows?"  they  piloted  Kitty  to  a  seat  in  the 
Chapel.  An  excellent  place,  but  the  girl's  sat 
isfaction  was  marred  by  Fletcher's  desertion, 
and  she  wouldn't  see  anything  attractive  about 
the  dashing  young  lady  in  the  pink  bonnet  to 
whom  he  devoted  himself,  "because  she  was  a 
stranger,"  Kitty  said. 

Everybody  knows  what  goes  on  in  the  Chapel, 
after  the  fight  and  scramble  are  over.  The  rustle 
and  buzz,  the  music,  the  oratory  and  the  poem, 
during  which  the  men  cheer  and  the  girls  sim 
per,  the  professors  yawn,  and  the  poet's  friends 
pronounce  him  a  second  Longfellow.  Then  the 


19 

closing  flourishes,  the  grand  crush,  and  general 
scattering. 

Then  the  fun  really  begins,  as  far  as  the 
young  folks  are  concerned.  They  don't  mind 
swarming  up  and  down  stairs  in  a  solid  pha 
lanx;  they  can  enjoy  half-a-dozen  courses  of 
salad,  ice,  and  strawberries,  with  stout  gentle 
men  crushing  their  feet,  anxious  mammas  stick 
ing  sharp  elbows  into  their  sides,  and  absent- 
minded  tutors  walking  over  them ;  they  can  flirt 
vigorously  in  a  torrid  atmosphere  of  dinner, 
dust,  and  din ;  can  smile  with  hot  coffee  run 
ning  down  their  backs,  small  avalanches  of  ice 
cream  descending  upon  their  best  bonnets,  the 
sandwiches,  butter-side  down,  reposing  on  their 
delicate  silks.  They  know  that  it  is  a  costly 
rapture,  but  they  carefully  refrain  from  thinking 
of  the  morrow,  and  energetically  illustrate  the 
Yankee  maxim  which  bids  us  enjoy  ourselves  in 
our  early  bloom. 


20 

Kitty  did  have  a  rousing  good  time ;  for 
Jack  was  devoted,  taking  her  everywhere, 
showing  her  everything,  feeding  and  fanning 
her,  and  festooning  her  train  with  untiring 
patience.  How  many  forcible  expressions  he 
mentally  indulged  in  as  he  walked  on  that  un 
lucky  train  we  will  not  record ;  he  smiled  and 
skipped  and  talked  of  treading  on  flowers  in  a 
way  that  would  have  charmed  Kitty,  if  some 
one  else  had  not  been  hovering  about  "  The 
Daisy,"  as  Fletcher  called  her. 

After  he  returned,  she  neglected  Jack,  who 
took  it  coolly,  and  was  never  in  the  way  unless 
she  wanted  him.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
Kitty  deliberately  flirted.  The  little  coquetries, 
which  are  as  natural  to  a  gay  young  girl  as  her 
laughter,  were  all  in  full  play,  and  had  she  gona 
no  farther  no  harm  would  have  been  done. 
But,  excited  by  the  example  of  those  about  her, 
Kitty  tried  to  enact  the  fashionable  young  lady, 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  21 

and,  like  most  novices,  she  overdid  the  part. 
Quite  forgetting  her  cousin,  she  rolled  her  eyes, 
tossed  her  head,  twirled  her  fan,  gave  affected 
little  shrieks  at  college  jokes,  and  talked  college 
slang  in  a  way  that  convulsed  Fletcher,  who 
enjoyed  the  fun  immensely. 

Jack  saw  it  all,  shook  his  head,  and  said 
nothing ;  but  his  face  grew  rather  sober  as  he 
watched  Kitty,  flushed,  dishevelled,  and  breath 
less,  whirling  round  Lyceum  Hall  on  the  arm 
of  Fletcher,  who  danced  divinely,  as  all  the 
girls  agreed.  Jack  had  proposed  going,  but 
Kitty  had  frowned,  so  he  fell  back,  leaving  her 
to  listen  and  laugh,  blush  and  shrink  a  little  at 
her  partner's  flowery  compliments  and  admiring 
glances. 

"  If  she  stands  that  long,  she's  not  the  girl  3 
took  her  for,"  thought  Jack,  beginning  to  lose 
patience.  "  She  don't  look  like  my  little  Kitty, 
and  somehow  I  don't  feel  half  so  fond  and  proud 


22 

of  her  as  usual.  I  know  one  thing,  my  daugh 
ters  shall  never  be  seen  knocking  about  in  that 
style." 

As  if  the  thought  suggested  the  act,  Jack 
suddenly  assumed  an  air  of  paternal  authority, 
and,  arresting  his  cousin  as  she  was  about  to 
begin  again,  he  said,  in  a  tone  she  lud  never 
heard  before :  — 

"I  promised  Pris  to  take  care  of  you,  so  I 
shall  carry  you  off  to  rest,  and  put  yourself  to 
rights  after  this  game  of  romps.  I  advise  you 
to  do  the  same,  Fletcher,  or  give  your  friend  in 
the  pink  bonnet  a  turn." 

Kitty  took  Jack's  arm  pettishly,  but  glanced 
over  her  shoulder  with  such  an  inviting  smile 
that  Fletcher  followed,  feeling  very  much  like  a 
top,  in  danger  of  tumbling  down  the  instant  he 
stopped  spinning.  As  she  came  out  Kitty's  face 
cleared,  and,  assuming  her  sprightliest  air,  she 
spread  her  plumage  and  prepared  to  descend 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  23 

with  effect,  for  a  party  of  uninvited  pens  stood 
at  the  gate  of  this  Paradise  casting  longing 
glances  at  the  forbidden  splendors  within. 
Slowly,  that  all  might  see  her,  Kitty  sailed 
down,  with  Horace,  the  debonnair,  in  her  wake, 
and  was  just  thinking  to  herself,  "  Those  girls 
won't  get  over  this  very  soon,  I  fancy,"  when  all 
in  one  moment  she  heard  Fletcher  exclaim, 
wrathfully,  "Hang  the  flounces!"  she  saw  a 
very  glossy  black  beaver  come  skipping  down 
the  steps,  felt  a  violent  twitch  backward,  and, 
to  save  herself  from  a  fall,  sat  down  on  the 
lower  step  with  most  undignified  haste. 

It  was  impossible  for  the  bystanders  to  help 
laughing,  for  there  was  Fletcher  hopping  wildly 
about,  with  one  foot  nicely  caught  in  a  muslin 
loop)  and  there  sat  Kitty,  longing  to  run  away 
and  hide  herself,  yet  perfectly  helpless,  while 
every  one  tittered.  Miss  Jones  and  Miss  Smith 
laughed  shrilly,  and  the  despised  little  Fresh- 


24  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

man  completed  her  mortification,  by  a  feeble 
joke  about  Kitty  Heath's  new  man-trap.  It 
was  only  an  instant,  but  it  seemed  an  hour,  be 
fore  Fletcher  freed  her,  and,  snatching  up  the 
dusty  beaver,  left  her  with  a  flushed  counte 
nance  and  an  abrupt  bow. 

Xf  it  hadn't  been  for  Jack,  Kitty  would  have 
burst  into  tears  then  and  there,  so  terrible  was 
the  sense  of  humiliation  which  oppressed  her. 
For  his  sake  she  controlled  herself,  and,  bund 
ling  up  her  torn  train,  set  her  teeth,  stared 
straight  before  her,  and  let  him  lead  her  in  dead 
silence  to  a  friend's  room  near  by.  There  he 
locked  the  door  and  began  to  comfort  her  by 
making  light  of  the  little  mishap.  But  Kitty 
cried  so  tragically,  that  he  was  at  his  wit's  end, 
till  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  afiair  struck  her, 
and  she  began  to  laugh  hysterically.  With  a 
vague  idea  that  vigorous  treatment  was  best  for 
that  feminine  ailment,  Jack  was  about  to  empty 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  25 

the  contents  of  an  ice-pitcher  over  her,  when  she 
arrested  him  by  exclaiming,  incoherently  :  — 

"Oh,  don't! — it  was  so  funny!  —  how  can 
you  laugh,  you  cruel  boy?  —  I'm  disgraced  for 
ever —  take  me  home  to  Pris,  oh,  take  me  home 
to  Pris ! " 

" I  will,  my  dear,  I  will ;  but  first  let  me  right 
you  up  a  bit ;  you  look  as  if  you  had  been  hazed, 
upon  my  life  you  do ; "  and  Jack  laughed  in 
spite  of  himself  at  the  wretched  little  object 
before  him,  for  dust,  dancing,  and  the  downfall 
produced  a  ruinous  spectacle. 

That  broke  Kitty's  heart ;  and,  spreading  her 
hands  before  her  face,  she  was  about  to  cry 
again,  when  the  sad  sight  which  met  her  eyes 
dispelled  the  gathering  tears.  The  new  gloves 
were  both  split  up  the  middle  and  very  dirty 
with  clutching  at  the  steps  as  she  went  down. 

"Never  mind,  you  can  wash  'em,"  said  Jack, 
soothingly. 


26  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

"  It's  awful !  I  paid  a  dollar  and  a  half  for 
'em,  and  they  can't  be  washed,"  groaned  Kitty. 

"  Oh,  hang  the  gloves !  I  meant  your 
hands,"  cried  Jack,  trying  to  keep  sober. 

"  No  matter  for  my  hands ;  I  mourn  my 
gloves.  But  I  won't  cry  any  more,  for  my  head 
aches  now  so  I  can  hardly  see."  And  Kitty 
threw  off  her  bonnet,  as  if  even  that  airy  trifle 
hurt  her. 

Seeing  how  pale  she  looked,  Jack  tenderly 
suggested  a  rest  on  the  old  sofa,  and  a  wet 
handkerchief  on  her  hot  forehead,  while  he  got 
the  good  landlady  to  send  her  up  a  cup  of  tea. 
As  Kitty  rose  to  comply  she  glanced  at  her 
dress,  and,  clasping  her  hands,  exclaimed,- 
tragically :  — 

'•  The  facing,  the  fatal  facing  !  That  made  all 
the  mischief;  for  if  I'd  sewed  it  last  night  it 
wouldn't  have  ripped  to-day ;  if  it  hadn't  ripped 
Fletcher  wouldn't  have  got  his  foot  in  it,  I 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  27 

shouldn't  have  made  an  object  of  myself,  he 
wouldn't  have  gone  off  in  a  rage,  and  —  who 
knows  what  might  have  happened?" 

"Bless  the  what's-its-name  if  it  has  settled 
him,"  cried  Jack.  "He  is  a  contemptible  fel 
low  not  to  stay  and  help  you  out  of  the  scrape 
he  got  you  into.  Follow  his  lead  and  don't 
trouble  yourself  about  him." 

"Well,  he  was  rather  absurd  to-day,  I  allow; 
but  he  has  got  handsome  eyes  and  hands,  and 
he  does  dance  like  an  angel,"  sighed  Kitty,  as 
she  pinned  up  the  treacherous  loop  which  had 
brought  destruction  to  her  little  castle  in  the 
air. 

"Handsome  eyes,  white  hands,  and  angelic 
feet  don't  make  a  man.  Wait  till  you  can  do 
better,  Kit." 

With  an  odd,  grave  look,  that  rather  gitartle.d 
Kitty,  Jack  vanished,  to  return  presently  with  a 
comfortable  cup  of  tea  and  a  motherly  old  lady 


\ 

28  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

to  help  repair  damages  and  soothe  her  by  the 
foolish  little  purrings  and  pattings  so  grateful  to 
female  nerves  after  a  flurry. 

"  I'll  come  back  and  take  you  out  to  see  the 
dance  round  the  tree  when  you've  had  a  bit  of  a 
rest,"  said  Jack,  vibrating  between  door  and 
sofa  as  if  it  wasn't  easy  to  get  away. 

"Oh,  I  couldn't,"  cried  Kitty,  with  a  shudder 
at  the  bare  idea  of  meeting  any  one.  "I  can't 
be  seen  again  to-night ;  let  me  stay  here  till  my 
train  goes." 

"I  thought  it  had  gone  already,"  said  Jack, 
with  an  irrepressible  twinkle  of  the  eye  that 
glanced  at  the  draggled  dress  sweeping  the 
floor. 

"  How  can  you  joke  about  it ! "  and  the  girl's 
reproachful  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  shame. 
"I  know  I've  been  a  fool,  Jack;  but  .I've  had 
my  punishment,  and  I  don't  need  any  more. 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  29 

To  feel  that  you  despise  me  is  worse  than  all  the 
rest." 

She  ended  with  a  little  sob,  and  turned  her 
face  away  to  hide  the  trembling  of  her  lips.  At 
that,  Jack  flushed  up,  his  eyes  shone,  and  he 
stooped  suddenly  as  if  to  make  some  impetuous 
reply.  But,  remembering  the  old  lady  (who, 
by-the-by,  was  discreetly  looking  out  of  the 
window) ,  he  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
strolled  out  of  the  room. 

"I've  lost  them  both  by  this  day's  folly," 
thought  Kitty,  as  Mrs.  Bliss  departed  with  the 
teacup.  "I  don't  care  for  Fletcher,  for  I  dare 
say  he  didn't  mean  half  he  said,  and  I  was  only 
flattered  because  he  is  rich  and  handsome  and 
the  girls  glorify  him.  But  I  shall  miss  Jack, 
for  I've  known  and  loved  him  all  my  life.  How 
good  he's  been  to  me  to-day !  so  patient,  care 
ful,  and  kind,  though  he  must  have  been 
ashamed  of  me !  I  know  he  didn't  like  my 


30  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

dress ;  but  he  never  said  a  word,  and  stood  by 
me  through  everything.  Oh,  I  wish  I'd  minded 
Pris !  then  he  would  have  respected  me,  at 
least.  I  wonder  if  he  ever  will  again?" 

Following  a  sudden  impulse,  Kitty  sprang  up, 
locked  the  door,  and  then  proceeded  to  destroy 
all  her  little  vanities  as  far  as  possible.  She 
smoothed  out  her  crimps  with  a  wet  and  ruth 
less  hand ;  fastened  up  her  pretty  hair  in  the 
simple  way  Jack  liked  ;  gave  her  once-cherished 
bonnet  a  spiteful  shake,  as  she  put  it  on,  and 
utterly  extinguished  it  with  a  big  blue  veil. 
She  looped  up  her  dress,  leaving  no  vestige  of 
the  now  hateful  train,  and  did  herself  up  uncom 
promisingly  in  the  Quakerish  gray  shawl  Pris 
had  insisted  on  her  taking  for  the  evening. 
Then  she  surveyed  herself  with  pensive  satisfac 
tion,  saying,  in  the  tone  of  one  bent  on  reso 
lutely  mortifying  the  flesh  :  — 

"Neat,  but   not  gaudy;  I'm  a  fright,  but  I 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  31 

deserve  it,  and  it's  better  than  being  a  pea 
cock." 

Kitty  had  time  to  feel  a  little  friendless  and 
forlorn,  sitting  there  alone  as  twilight  fell,"  and 
amused  herself  by  wondering  if  Fletcher  would 
come  to  inquire  about  her,  or  show  any  further 
interest  in  her ;  yet  when  the  sound  of  a  manly 
tramp  approached,  she  trembled  lest  it  should 
be  the  victim  of  the  fatal  facing.  The  door 
opened,  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  she  saw  Jack 
come  in,  bearing  a  pair  of  new  gloves  in  one 
hand  and  a  great  bouquet  of  June  roses  in  the 
other. 

"  How  good  of  you  to  bring  me  these  !  They 
are  more  refreshing  than  oceans  of  tea.  You 
know  what  I  like,  Jack ;  thank  you  very  much," 
cried  Kitty,  sniffing  at  her  roses  with  grateful 
rapture. 

"And  you  know  what  I  like,"  returned  Jack, 


32  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

with  an  approving  glance  at  the  altered  figure 
before  him. 

"I'll  never  do  so  any  more,"  murmured 
Kitty,  wondering  why  she  felt  bashful  all  of  a 
sudden,  when  it  was  only  cousin  Jack. 

"Now  put  on  your  gloves,  dear,  and  come  out 
and  hear  the  music ;  your  train  don't  go  for  two 
hours  yet,  and  you  mustn't  mope  here  all  that 
time,"  said  Jack,  offering  his  second  gift. 

"  How  did  you  know  my  size  ?  "  asked  Kitty, 
putting  on  the  gloves  in  a  great  hurry ;  for 
though  Jack  had  called  her  "dear"  for  years, 
the  little  word  had  a  new  sound  to-night. 

"  I  guessed,  —  no  I  didn't,  I  had  the  old  ones 
with  me;  they  are  no  good  now,  are  they?" 
and,  too  honest  to  lie,  Jack  tried  to  speak  care 
lessly,  though  he  turned  red  in  the  dusk,  well 
knowing  that  the  dirty  little  gloves  were  folded 
away  in  his  left  breast-pocket  at  that  identical 
moment. 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  33 

w  Oh,  dear,  no  !  these  fit  nicely.  Fm  ready, 
if  you  don't  mind  going  with  such  a  fright," 
said  Kitty,  forgetting  her  dread  of  seeing  people 
in  her  desire  to  get  away  from  that  room,  be 
cause  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  "she  wasn't  at 
ease  with  Jack. 

"I  think  I  like  the  little  gray  moth  better 
than  the  fine  butterfly,"  returned  Jack,  who,  in 
spite  of  his  invitation,  seemed  to  find  "  moping  " 
rather  pleasant. 

"You  are  a  rainy-day  friend,  and  he  isn't," 
said  Kitty,  softly,  as  she  drew  him  away. 

Jack's  only  answer  was  to  lay  his  hand  on  the 
little  white  glove  resting  so  confidingly  on  his 
arm,  and,  keeping  it  there,  they  roamed  away 
into  the  summer  twilight. 

Something  had  happened  to  the  evening  and 
the  place,  for  both  seemed  suddenly  endowed 
with  uncommon  beauty  and  interest.  The 
dingy  old  houses  might  have  been  fairy  palaces, 


34  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

for  anything  they  saw  to  the  contrary ;  the 
dusty  walks,  the  trampled  grass,  were  regular 
Elysian  fields  to  them,  and  the  music  was  the 
music  of  the  spheres,  though  they  found  them 
selves  "Eight  in  the  middle  of  the  boom,  jing, 
jing."  For  both  had  made  a  little  discovery,  — 
no,  not  a  little  one,  the  greatest  and  sweetest 
man  and  woman  can  make.  In  the  sharp 
twinge  of  jealousy  which  the  sight  of  Kitty's 
flirtation  with  Fletcher  gave  him,  and  the  de 
light  he  found  in  her  after  conduct,  Jack  dis 
covered  how  much  he  loved  her.  In  the  shame, 
gratitude,  and  half-sweet,  half-bitter  emotion 
that  filled  her  heart,  Kitty  felt  that  to  her  Jack 
would  never  be  "only  cousin  Jack"  anymore. 
All  the  vanity,  coquetry,  selfishness,  and  ill- 
temper  of  the  day  seemed  magnified  to  heinous 
sins,  for  now  her  only  thought  was,  "seeing 
these  faults,  he  can't  care  for  me.  Oh,  I  wish  I 
was  a  better  girl ! " 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  35 

She  did  not  say  "  for  his  sake,"  but  in  the  new 
humility,  the  ardent  wish  to  be  all  that  a  woman 
should  be,  little  Kitty  proved  how  true  her  love 
was,  and  might  have  said  with  Portia :  — 

"  For  myself  alone,  I  would  not  be 
Ambitious  in  my  wish ;  but,  for  you, 
I  would  be  trebled  twenty  times  myself; 
A  thousand  times  more  fair, 
Ten  thousand  times  more  rich." 

All  about  them  other  pairs  were  wandering 
under  the  patriarchal  elms,  enjoying  music,  star 
light,  balmy  winds,  and  all  the  luxuries  of  the 
season.  If  the  band  had  played 

"  Oh,  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream  —  " 

it  is  my  private  opinion  that  it  would  have 
suited  the  audience  to  a  T.  Being  principally 
composed  of  elderly  gentlemen  with  large  fami- 


36 

lies,  they  had  not  that  fine  sense  of  the  fitness 
of  things  so  charming  to  see,  and  tooted  and 
banged  away  with  waltzes  and  marches,  quite 
regardless  of  the  flocks  of  Romeos  and  Juliets 
philandering  all  about  them. 

Under  cover  of  a  popular  medley,  Kitty  over 
heard  Fletcher  quizzing  her  for  the  amusement 
of  Miss  Pink-bonnet,  who  was  evidently  making 
up  for  lost  time.  It  was  feeble  wit,  but  it  put 
the  finishing  stroke  to  Kitty's  vanity,  and  she 
wept  a  little  weep  in  her  blue  tissue  retreat,  and 
clung  to  Jack,  feeling  that  she  had  never  valued 
him  half  enough.  She  hoped  he  didn't  hear  the 
gossip  going  on  at  the  other  side  of  the  tree 
near  which  they  stood ;  but  he  did,  for  his  hand 
involuntarily  doubled  itself  up  into  a  very 
dangerous-looking  fist,  and  he  darted  such  fiery 
glances  at  the  speaker,  that,  if  the  thing  had 
been  possible,  Fletcher's  ambrosia  curls  would 
have  been  scorched  off  his  head. 


37 

"Never  mind,  and  don't  get  angry,  Jack. 
They  are  right  about  one  thing,  —  the  daisies  in 
my  bonnet  were  real,  and  I  couldn't  afford  any 
others.  I  don't  care  much,  only  Pris  worked 
so  hard  to  get  me  ready  I  hate  to  have  my 
things  made  fun  of." 

"  He  isn't  worth  a  thrashing,  so  we'll  let  it 
pass  this  time,"  said  Jack,  irefully,  yet  privately 
resolving  to  have  "  a  go  "  at  Fletcher  by  and 

by- 

"  Why,  Kitty,  I  thought  the  real  daisies  the 
prettiest  things  about  your  dress.  Don't  throw 
them  away.  I'll  wear  them  just  to  show  that 
noodle  that  I  prefer  nature  to  art ;  "  and  Jack 
gallantly  stuck  the  faded  posy  in  his  button 
hole,  while  Kitty  treasured  up  the  hint  so  kindly 
given  for  future  use. 

If  a  clock  with  great  want  of  tact  hadn't  in 
sisted  on  telling  them  that  it  was  getting  late, 
Kitty  never  would  have  got  home,  for  both  the 


38  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

young  people  felt  inclined  to  loiter  about  arm  in 
arm  through  the  sweet  summer  night  forever. 
Jack  had  meant  to  say  something  before  she 
went,  and  was  immensely  surprised  to  find  the 
chance  lost  for  the  present.  He  wanted  to  go 
home  with  her  and  free  his  mind ;  but  a  neigh 
borly  old  gentleman  having  been  engaged  as 
escort,  there  would  have  .been  very  little  satis 
faction  in  a  travelling  trio  ;  so  he  gave  it  up. 
He  was  very  silent  as  they  walked  to  the  station 
with  Dr.  Dodd  trudging  behind  them.  Kitty 
thought  he  was  tired,  perhaps  glad  to  be  rid  of 
her,  and  meekly  accepted  her  fate.  But  as  the 
train  approached,  she  gave  his  hand  an  impul 
sive  squeeze,  and  said  very  gratefully :  — 

"Jack,  I  can't  thank  you  enough  for  your 
kindness  to  your  silly  little  cousin ;  but  I  never 
shall  forget  it,  and  if  I  ever  can  return  it  in  any 
way,  I  will  with  all  my  heart." 

Jack  looked  down  at  the  young  face  almost 


KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY.  39 

pathetic  now  with  weariness,  humility,  and  pain, 
yet  very  sweet,  with  that  new  shyness  in  the 
loving  eyes,  and,  stooping  suddenly,  he  kissed 
it,  whispering  in  a  tone  that  made  the  girl's 
heart  flutter :  — 

"I'll  tell  you  how  you  may  return  it  with 
all  your  heart,  by  and  by.  Good-night,  my 
Kitty." 

"Have  you  had  a  good  time,  dear?"  asked 
Pris,  as  her  sister  appeared  an  hour  later. 

"Don't  I  look  as  if  I  had?  "  and  throwing  off 
her  wraps,  Kitty  revolved  slowly  before  her 
that  she  might  behold  every  portion  of  the 
wreck.  "My  gown  is  all  dust,  crumple,  and 
rags,  my  bonnet  perfectly  limp  and  flat,  and  my 
gloves  are  ruined ;  I've  broken  Lizzie's  parasol, 
made  a  spectacle  of  myself,  and  wasted  money, 
time,  and  temper;  yet  my  Class  Day  isn't  a 
failure,  for  Jack  is  the  dearest  boy  in  the  world, 
and  I'm  very,  very  happy ! " 


40  KITTY'S  CLASS-DAY. 

Pris  looked  at  her  a  minute,  then  opened  her 
arms  without  a  word,  and  Kitty  forgot  all  her 
little  troubles  in  one  great  joy. 

When  Miss  Smith  and  Miss  Jones  called  a 
few  days  after  to  tell  her  that  Mr.  Fletcher  was 
going  abroad,  the  amiable  creatures  were  en 
tirely  routed  by  finding  Jack  there  in  a  most 
unmistakable  situation.  He  blandly  wished 
Horace  "bon  voyage,"  and  regretted  that  he 
wouldn't  be  there  to  the  wedding  in  October. 
Kitty  devoted  herself  to  blushing  beautifully, 
and  darning  endless  rents  in  a  short  daisy  muslin 
skirt,  "which  I  intend  to  wear  a  great  deal,  be 
cause  Jack  likes  it,  and  so  do  I,"  she  said,  with 
a  demure  look  at  her  lover,  who  laughed  as  if 
that  was  the  best  joke  of  the  season. 


AMT  KIPP. 

"  Children  and  fools  speak  the  truth.* 
I. 

«  WHAT'S  that  sigh  for,  Polly,  dear?" 
"I'm  tired,   mother,   tired   of    working    and 
waiting.     If  I'm  ever  going  to  have  any  fun,  I 
want  it  now  while  I  can  enjoy  it." 

"  You  shouldn't  wait  another  hour  if  I  could 
have  my  way;  but  you  know  how  helpless  I 
am ;  "  and  poor  Mrs.  Snow  sighed  dolefully,  as 
she  glanced  about  the  dingy  room  and  pretty 
Mary  turning  her  faded  gown  for  the  second 
time. 

"  If  Aunt  Kipp  would  give  us  the  money  she 

41 


42  AUNT   KIPP. 

is  always  talking  about,  instead  of  waiting  till 
she  dies,  we  should  be  so  comfortable.  She  is  a 
dreadful  bore,  for  she  lives  in  such  terror  of 
dropping  dead  with  her  heart-complaint  that  she 
don't  take  any  pleasure  in  life  herself  or  let  any 
one  else ;  so  the  sooner  she  goes,  the  better  for 
all  of  us,"  said  Polly,  in  a  desperate  tone ;  for 
things  looked  very  black  to  her  just  then. 

"  My  dear,  don't  say  that,"  began  her  mother, 
mildly  shocked ;  but  a  bluff  little  voice  broke  in 
with  the  forcible  remark :  — 

"She's  everlastingly  tellin'  me  never  to  put 
off  till  to-morrer  what  can  be  done  to-day ; 
next  time  she  comes  I'll  remind  her  of  that, 
and  ask  her,  if  she  is  goin'  to  die,  why  she 
don't  up  and  do  it." 

"  Toady  !  you're  a  wicked,  disrespectful  boy  ; 
never  let  me  hear  you  say  such  a  thing  again 
about  your  dear  Aunt  Kipp." 

"  She  aint  dear  !     You  know  we  all  hate  her, 


AUNT  KIPP.  43 

ma,  and  you  are  Traider  of  her'n  you  are  of 
spiders,  —  so  now." 

The  young  personage,  whose  mellifluous  name 
of  Theodore  had  been  corrupted  into  Toady,  was 
a  small  boy  of  ten  or  eleven,  apple-cheeked, 
round-eyed,  and  curly-headed ;  arrayed  in  well- 
worn,  gray  knickerbockers,  profusely  adorned 
with  paint,  glue,  and  shreds  of  cotton.  Perched 
on  a  high  stool,  at  an  isolated  table  in  a  state  of 
chaos,  he  was  absorbed  in  making  a  boat,  en 
tirely  oblivious  of  the  racking  tooth-ache  which 
had  been  his  excuse  for  staying  from  school. 
As  cool,  saucy,  hard-handed,  and  soft-hearted  a 
little  specimen  of  young  America  was  Toady  as 
you  would  care  to  see — a  tyrant  at  home,  a  rebel 
at  school,  a  sworn  foe  to  law,  order,  and  Aunt 
Kipp.  This  young  party  was  regarded  as  a  rep 
robate  by  all  but  his  mother,  sister,  and  sister's 
sweetheart,  Van  Bahr  Lamb.  Having  been, 
through  much  anguish  of  flesh  and  spirit,  taught 


44  AUNT  KIPP. 

that  lying  was  a  deadly  sin,  Toady  rushed  to  the 
other  extreme,  and  bolted  out  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  at 
all  times  and  places,  with  a  startling  abruptness 
that  brought  wrath  and  dismay  upon  his  friends 
and  relatives. 

"  It's  horrid  to  fib ;  you've  whacked  that  into 
me  and  you  can't  rub  it  out,  ma,"  he  was  wont 
to  say  with  vivid  recollection  of  the  part  tingling 
in  the  chubby  portions  of  his  frame. 

"Mind  your  chips,  Toady,  and  take  care  what 
you  say  to  Aunt  Kipp,  or  you'll  be  as  poor  as  a 
little  rat  all  the  days  of  your  life,"  said  Polly, 
warningly. 

"  I  don't  want  her  old  money,  and  I'll  tell  her 
so  if  she  bothers  me  about  it.  I  shall  go  into 
business  with  Van  and  take  care  of  the  whole 
lot;  so  don't  you  preach,  Polly,"  returned 
Toady,  with  as  much  dignity  as  was  compatible 


AUNT  KIPP.  45 

with  a  great  dab  of  glue  on  the  end  of  his  snub 
nose. 

"Ma,  dear,  did  aunt  say  anything  about 
coming  this  week  ? "  asked  Polly,  after  a  pause 
of  intense  thought  over  a  breadth  with  three 
darns,  two  spots,  and  a  burn. 

"Yes  ;  she  wrote  that  she  was  too  feeble  to  come 
at  present,  as  she  had  such  dreadful  palpitations 
she  didn't  dare  stir  from  her  room.  So  we  are 
quite  safe  for  the  next  week  at  least,  and — bless 
my  soul,  there  she  is  now  I  " 

Mrs.  Snow  clasped  her  hands  with  a  gesture 
of  dismay,  and  sat  as  if  transfixed  by  the  spec 
tacle  of  a  ponderous  lady,  in  an  awe-inspiring 
bonnet,  who  came  walking  slowly  down  the 
street.  Polly  gave  a  groan,  and  pulled  a  bright 
ribbon  from  her  hair.  Toady  muttered,  "Oh, 
bother !  "  and  vainly  attempted  to  polish  up  his 
countenance  with  a  fragmentary  pocket-handker 
chief. 


46  AUNT    KIPP. 

"Nothing  but  salt-fish  for  dinner,"  wailed  Mrs. 
Snow,  as  the  shadow  of  the  coming  event  fell 
upon  her. 

"Van  will  make  a  fool  of  himself,  and  ruin 
everything,"  sighed  Polly,  glancing  at  the  ring 
on  her  finger. 

"  I  know  she'll  kiss  me ;  she  never  will  let  a 
fellow  alone,"  growled  Toady,  scowling  darkly. 

The  garden-gate  clashed,  dust  flew  from  the 
door-mat,  a  heavy  step  echoed  in  the  hall,  an 
imperious  voice  called  "  Sophy  !  "  and  Aunt  Kipp 
entered  with  a  flourish  of  trumpets,  for  Toady 
blew  a  blast  through  his  fingers  which  made  the 
bows  totter  on  her  bonnet. 

"My  dear  aunt,  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you," 
murmured  Mrs.  Snow,  advancing  with  a  smile 
of  welcome ;  for  though  as  weak  as  water-gruel, 
she  was  as  kind-hearted  a  little  woman  as  ever 
lived. 


AUNT  KIPP.  47 

"  My  boots  !  what  a  whacker  that  was  !  "  said 
Toady,  sotto  voce. 

"We  were  just  saying  we  were  afraid  you 
wouldn't"  —  began  Mary,  when  a  warning, 
"Mind  your  eye,  Polly,"  caused  her  to  stop 
short  and  busy  herself  with  the  new-comer's  bag 
and  umbrella. 

"I  changed  my  mind.  Theodore,  come  and 
kiss  me,"  answered  Aunt  Kipp,  briefly. 

"  Yes'm,"  was  the  plaintive  reply,  and,  closing 
his  eyes,  Toady  awaited  his  fate  with  fortitude. 

But  the  dreaded  salute  did  not  come,  for  Aunt 
Kipp  exclaimed,  in  alarm :  — 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  has  the  boy  got  the  plague  ?  " 

"No'm,  it's  paint,  and  dirt,  and  glue,  and  it 
won't  come  off,"  said  Toady,  stroking  his  varie 
gated  countenance  with  grateful  admiration  for 
the  stains  that  saved  him. 

"Go  and  wash  this  moment,  sir.  Thank 
Heaven  jTve  got  no  boy<s,"  cried  Aunt  Kipp,  as 


48  AUNT   KIPP. 

if  boys  were  some  virulent  disease  which  she  had 
narrowly  escaped. 

With  a  hasty  peck  at  the  lips  of  her  two  elder 
relatives,  the  old  lady  seated  herself,  and  slowly 
removed  the  awful  bonnet,  which  in  shape  and 
hue  much  resembled  a  hearse  hung  with  black 
crape. 

"  I'm  glad  you  are  better,"  said  Mary,  rever 
ently  receiving  the  funereal  head-gear. 

"I'm  not  better,"  cut  in  Aunt  Kipp.  "I'm 
worse,  much  worse ;  my  days  are  numbered ; 
I  stand  on  the  brink  of  the  tomb,  and  may  drop 
at  any  moment." 

Toady's  face  was  a  study,  as  he  glanced  up 
at  the  old  lady's  florid  countenance,  down  at  the 
floor,  as  if  in  search  of  the  above-mentioned 
w  brink,"  and  looked  unaffectedly  anxious  to  see 
her  drop.  "Why  don't  you  then?"  was  on  his 
lips;  but  a  frown  from  Polly  restrained  him, 


AUNT   KIPP.  49 

and  he  set  himself  down  on  the  rug  to  contem 
plate  the  corpulent  victim. 

"  Have  a  cup  of  tea,  aunt?  "  said  Mrs.  Snow. 

"  I  will." 

"  Lie  down  and  rest  a  little,"  suggested  Polly. 

« I  won't." 

"  Can  we  do  anything  for  you  ?  "  said  both. 

"  Take  my  things  away,  and  have  dinner 
early." 

Both  departed  to  perform  these  behests,  and, 
leaning  back  in  her  chair,  Aunt  Kipp  reposed. 

"I  say,  what's  a  bore?  "asked  Toady,  from 
the  •  rug,  where  he  sat  rocking  meditatively  to 
and  fro,  holding  on  by  his  shoe-strings. 

"It's  a  kind  of  a  pig,  very  fierce,  and  folks 
are  afraid  of  'em,"  said  Aunt  Kipp,  whose 
knowledge  of  Natural  History  was  limited. 

"  Good  for  Polly  !  so  you  are  ! "  sung  out  the 
boy,  with  the  hearty  child's  laugh  so  pleasant  to 
most  ears. 


50  AUNT  KIPP. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  demanded  the  old 
lady,  irefully  poking  at  him  with  her  umbrella. 

"Why,  Polly  said  you  were  a  bore,"  ex 
plained  Toady,  with  artless  frankness.  "  You 
are  fat,  you  know,  and  fierce  sometimes,  and 
folks  are  scared  of  you.  Good,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  Very !  Mary  is  a  nice,  grateful,  respectful, 
loving  niece,  and  I  shan't  forget  her,  she  may 
depend  on  that,"  and  Aunt  Kipp  laughed 
grimly, 

"May  she?  well,  that's  jolly  now.  She  was 
afraid  you  wouldn't  give  her  the  money ;  so  I'll 
tell  her  it's  all  right ; "  and  innocent  Toady 
nodded  approvingly. 

"  Oh,  she  expects  some  of  my  money,  does 
she?" 

"  Course  she  does ;  aint  you  always  saying 
you'll  remember  us  in  your  will,  'cause  pa  was 
your  favorite  nephew,  and  all  that?  I'll  tell  you 
a  secret,  if  you  won't  let  Polly  know  I  spoke 


AUNT  KIPP.  51 

first.  You'll  find  it  out  to-night  anyway. 
Van's  so  spooney  on  her,  you'd  see  they  were 
sweethearts  in  a  minute." 

"  Sweethearts  !  "  cried  Aunt  Kipp,  turning 
red  in  the  face. 

"  Yes'm.  Yan  popped  last  week,  and  Polly's 
been  going  on  like  mad  ever  since.  Ma  likes  it, 
and  I  like  it,  for  I'm  fond  of  Yan,  though  I  do 
call  him  Baa-baa,  'cause  he  looks  like  a  sheep. 
We  all  like  it,  and  we'd  all  hooray  for  it,  if  we 
wan't  afraid  of  you.  Ma  and  Polly  I  mean  ;  of 
course  we  men  don't  mind,  but  we  don't  want  a 
row.  You  won't  make  one,  will  you,  now?  " 

Anything  more  expressive  of  brotherly  good 
will,  persuasive  frankness,  and  a  placid  con 
sciousness  of  having  "fixed  it,"  than  Toady's 
dirty  little  face,  it  would  be  hard  to  find. 
Aunt  Kipp  eyed  him  so  fiercely,  that  even  be 
fore  she  spoke  a  dim  suspicion  that  something 


52  AUNT  KIPP. 

was  wrong  began  to  dawn  on  his  too  confiding 
soul. 

"  /  don't  like  it,  and  I'll  put  a  stop  to  it.  I 
won't  have  any  ridiculous  baa-baas  in  my  family. 
If  Mary  counts  on  my  money  to  begin  house 
keeping  with,  she'll  find  herself  mistaken ;  for 
not  one  penny  shall  she  have,  married  or  single, 
and  you  may  tell  her  so." 

Toady  was  so  taken  aback  by  this  explosion 
that  he  let  go  his  shoe-strings,  fell  over  with  a 
crash,  and  lay  flat,  with  shovel  and  tongs  spread 
upon  him  like  a  pall.  In  rushed  ma  and  Polly, 
to  find  the  boy's  spirits  quite  quenched,  for 
once,  and  Aunt  Kipp  in  a  towering  passion.  It 
all  came  out  in  one  overwhelming  flood  of 
words,  and  Toady  fled  from  the  storm  to  wander 
round  the  house,  a  prey  to  the  deepest  remorse. 
The  meekness  of  that  boy  at  dinner-time  was 
so  angelic  that  Mrs.  Snow  would  have  feared 
speedy  translation  for  him,  if  she  had  not  been 


AUNT   KIPP.  53 

very  angry.  Polly's  red  eyes,  and  Aunt  Kipp's 
griffinesque  expression  of  countenance,  weighed 
upon  his  soul  so  heavily,  that  even  roly-poly 
pudding  failed  to  assuage  his  trouble,  and, 
taking  his  mother  into  the  china-closet,  he  anx 
iously  inquired  "  if  it  was  all  up  with  Polly." 

"  I'm  afraid  so,  for  aunt  vows  she  will  make  a 
new  will  to-morrow,  and  leave  .every  penny  to 
the  Charitable  Eag-bag  Society,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Snow. 

"  I  didn't  go  to  do  it,  ma ;  I  truly  didn't  1 
I  thought  I'd  just '  give  her  a  hint,'  as  you  say. 
She  looked  all  serene,  and  laughed  when  I  told 
her  about  being  a  bore,  and  I  thought  she  liked 
it.  If  she  was  a  man,  I'd  thrash  her  for  making 
Polly  cry ; "  and  Toady  shook  his  fist  at  Aunt 
Kipp's  umbrella,  which  was  an  immense  relief 
to  his  perturbed  spirit. 

4  Bless  the  boy !  I  do  believe  he  would ! " 
cried  Mrs.  Snow,  watching  the  little  turkey- 


54  AUNT  KIPP. 

cock  with  maternal  pride.  "You  can't  do  that ; 
so  just  be  careful  and  not  make  any  more  mis 
chief,  dear." 

"I'll  try,  ma;  but  I'm  always  getting  into 
scrapes  with  Aunt  Kipp.  She's  worse'n  mea 
sles,  any  day, — such  an  old  aggrawater !  I 
say,  Van's  coming  this  afternoon.  Won't  he 
make  her  clever  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  He  will  probably  make 
things  ten  times  worse,  he's  so  bashful  and 
queer.  I'm  afraid  our  last  chance  is  gone, 
deary,  and  we  must  grub  along  as  we  have 
done." 

One  sniff  of  emotion  burst  from  Toady,  and 
for  a  moment  he  laid  his  head  in  the  knife-tray, 
overcome  with  disappointment  and  regret.  But, 
scorning  to  yield  to  unmanly  tears,  he  was  soon 
himself  again.  Thrusting  his  beloved  jack- 
knife,  with  three  blades  and  a  file,  into  Polly's 
hand,  he  whispered,  brokenly:  — 


AUNT  KIPP.  55 


"Keep  it  forever'n'  ever;  I'm  thundering 
sorry!"  Then,  feeling  that  the  magnitude  of 
this  sacrifice  atoned  for  everything,  he  went  to 
watch  for  Van,  —  the  forlorn  hope  to  which  he 
now  clung. 


56  AUNT  KIPP. 


II. 

"  SOPHY,  I'm  surprised  at  your  want  of  judg 
ment.  Do  you  really  mean  to  let  your  girl 
marry  this  Lamb  ?  Why,  the  man's  a  fool !  " 
began  Aunt  Kipp,  after  dinner,  by  way  of  open 
ing  a  pleasant  conversation  with  her  relatives. 

"Dear  me,  aunt!  how  can  you  know  that, 
when  you  never  saw  him?"  mildly  returned 
Mrs.  Snow. 

K  I've  heard  of  him,  and  that's  enough  for  me. 
I've  a  deal  of  penetration  in  judging  character, 
and  I  tell  you  Van  Bahr  Lamb  is  a  fool." 

The  amiable  old  lady  thought  this  would 
rouse  Polly,  against  whom  her  anger  still 
burned  hotly.  But  Polly  also  possessed  pene 
tration ;  and,  well  knowing  that  contradiction 
would  delight  Aunt  Kipp,  she  completely  took 


AUNT  KIPP.  57 

the  wind  out  of  her  sails,  by  coolly  remark 
ing  :— 

"I  like  fools." 

"  Bless  my  heart  I  what  does  the  girl  mean  ?  " 
ejaculated  Aunt  Kipp. 

"  Just  what  I  say.  If  Yan  is  a  fool,  I  prefer 
simpletons  to  wiseacres.  I  know  he  is  shy  and 
awkward,  looks  like  a  goose  sometimes,  and 
does  absurd  things  now  and  then.  But  I  also 
know  that  he  has  the  kindest  heart  that  ever 
was ;  is  unselfish,  faithful,  and  loving ;  that  he 
took  good  care  of  his  old  parents  till  they  died, 
and  never  thought  of  himself  while  they  needed 
him.  He  loves  me  dearly ;  will  wait  for  me  a 
dozen  years,  if  I  say  so,  and  work  all  his  days  to 
make  me  happy.  He's  a  help  and  comfort  to 
ma,  a  good  friend  to  Toady,  and  I  love,  and  re 
spect,  and  am  proud  of  him  though  he  is  a  fool," 
cried  Polly,  heartily. 


58  AUNT   KIPP. 

"And  you  insist  on  marrying  him?"  de 
manded  Aunt  Kipp. 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"Then  I  wish  a  carriage  immediately,"  was 
the  somewhat  irrelevant  reply. 

"  Why,  aunt,  you  don't  mean  to  go  so  soon  ?  " 
cried  Mrs.  Snow,  with  a  reproachful  glance  at 
the  rebellious  Polly. 

"Far  from  it.  I  wish  to  see  Judge  Banks 
about  altering  my  will,"  was  the  awful  answer. 

Polly's  face  fell ;  her  mother  gave  a  despair 
ing  sigh;  Toady,  who  had  hovered  about  the 
door,  uttered  a  suppressed  whistle  of  dismay; 
and  Mrs.  Kipp  looked  about  her  with  vengeful 
satisfaction. 

"  Get  the  big  carryall  and  old  Bob,  so  the  boy 
can  drive,  and  all  of  you  come ;  the  trip  will  do 
you  good." 

It  was  like  Aunt  Kipp  to  invite  her  poor  rela 
tions  to  go  and  "  nip  their  own  noses  off,"  as  she 


AUNT  KIPP.  59 

elegantly  expressed  it.  It  was  a  party  of  pleas 
ure  that  just  suited  her,  for  all  the  fun  was  on 
her  side.  She  grew  affable  at  once ;  was  quite 
pressing  in  her  invitation ;  regretted  that  Sophy 
was  too  busy  to  go ;  praised  Polly's  hat ;  and 
professed  herself  quite  satisfied  with  "  that  dear 
boy  "  for  a  driver.  The  "  dear  boy  "  distorted 
his  young  countenance  frightfully  behind  her 
back,  but  found  a  balm  for  every  wound  in  the 
delight  of  being  commander  of  the  expedition. 

The  big  carryall  appeared,  and,  with  much 
creaking  and  swaying,  Mrs.  Kipp  was  got  into 
the  back  seat,  where  the  big  bonnet  gloomed 
like  a  thunder-cloud.  Polly,  in  a  high  state  of 
indignation,  which  only  made  her  look  ten  times 
prettier,  sat  in  front  with  Toady,  who  was  a 
sight  for  gods  and  men  as  he  drove  off  with  his 
short  legs  planted  against  the  boot,  his  elbows 
squared,  and  the  big  whip  scientifically  cracking 
now  and  then.  Away  they  went,  leaving  poor 


60  AUNT  KIPP. 

ma  to   bewail  herself   dismally  after  she  had 
smiled  and  nodded  them  out  of  sight. 

"  Don't  go  over  any  bridges  or  railroad  cross 
ings  or  by  any  saw-mills,"  said  the  old  lady,  as 
if  the  town  could  be  suddenly  remodelled  t©  suit 
her  taste. 

"  Yes'm,"  returned  Toady,  with  a  crack  which 
would  have  done  honor  to  a  French  postilion. 

It  was  a  fine  day,  and  the  young  people 
would  have  enjoyed  the  ride  in  spite  of  the 
breakers  ahead,  if  Aunt  Kipp  hadn't  entertained 
the  girl  with  a  glowing  account  of  the  splendors 
of  her  own  wedding,  and  aggravated  the  boy  by 
frequent  pokes  and  directions  in  the  art  of  driv 
ing,  of  which  she  was,  -of  course,  profoundly 
ignorant.  Polly  couldn't  restrain  a  tear  or  two, 
in  thinking  of  her  own  poor  little  prospects,  and 
Toady  was  goaded  to  desperation. 

"  I'll  give  her  a  regular  shaking  up  ;  it'll  make 
her  hold  her  tongue  and  do  her  good,"  he  said 


AUNT  KIPP.  61 

to  himself,  as  a  stony  hill  sloped  temptingly 
before  him. 

A  sly  chuck,  and  some  mysterious  manoeuvre 
with  the  reins,  and  Bob  started  off  at  a  brisk 
trot,  as  if  he  objected  to  the  old  lady  as  much  as 
her  mischievous  little  nevvy. 

"  Hold  him  in  !  Keep  a  taut  rein  !  Lord  'a 
mercy,  he's  running  away ! "  shrieked  Aunt 
Kipp,  or  tried  to  shriek,  for  the  bouncing  and 
bumping  jerked  the  words  out  of  her  mouth 
with  ludicrous  incoherency. 

"I  am  holding  him,  but  he  will  go,"  said 
Toady,  with  a  wicked  triumph  in  his  eye  as  he 
glanced  back  at  Polly. 

The  next  minute  the  words  were  quite  true ; 
for,  as  he  spoke,  two  or  three  distracted  hens 
flew  squalling  over  the  wall  and  scattered  about 
under,  over,  and  before  the  horse,  as  only  dis 
tracted  hens  could  do.  It  was  too  much  for 
Bob's  nerves ;  and,  taking  matters  into  his  own 


62  AUNT   KIPP. 

hands,  or  feet,  rather,  he  broke  into  a  run,  and 
rattled  the  old  lady's  bones  over  the  stones  with 
a  velocity  which  left  her  speechless. 

Polly  laughed,  and  Toady  chuckled,  as  they 
caught  glimpses  of  the  awful  bonnet  vibrating 
wildly  in  the  background,  and  felt  the  frantic 
clutchings  of  the  old  lady's  hands.  But  both 
grew  sober  as  a  shrill  car-whistle  sounded  not 
far  off;  and  Bob,  as  if  possessed  by  an  evil 
spirit,  turned  suddenly  into  the  cross-road  that 
led  to  the  railroad-crossing. 

"That  will  do,  Toady;  now  pull  up,  for  we 
can't  get  over  in  time,"  said  Polly,  glancing 
anxiously  toward  the  rapidly  approaching  puffs 
of  white  smoke. 

"I  can't,  Polly,  — I  really  can't,"  cried  the 
boy,  tugging  with  all  his  might,  and  beginning 
to  look  scared. 

Polly  lent  her  aid ;  but  Bob  scarcely  seemed 
to  feel  it,  for  he  had  been  a  racer  once,  and 


AUNT  KIPP.  63 

when  his  blood  was  up  he  was  hard  to  handle. 
His  own  good  sense  might  have  checked  him,  if 
Aunt  Kipp  hadn't  unfortunately  recovered  her 
voice  at  this  crisis,  and  uttered  a  succession  of 
the  shrillest  screams  that  ever  saluted  mortal 
ears.  With  a  snort  and  a  bound  Bob  dashed 
straight  on  toward  the  crossing,  as  the  train 
appeared  round  the  bend. 

"  Let  me  out !  Let  me  out !  Jump  1  Jump  ! " 
shrieked  Aunt  Kipp,  thrusting  her  head  out  of 
the  window,  where  it  stuck,  while  she  fumbled 
madly  for  the  door-handle. 

"  O  Toady,  save  us  !  save  us  !  "  gasped  Polly, 
losing  her  presence  of  mind,  and  dropping  the 
reins  to  cling  to  her  brother,  with  a  woman's 
instinctive  faith  in  the  stronger  sex. 

But  Toady  held  on  manfully,  though  his  arms 
were  nearly  pulled  off,  for  "Never  say  die,"  was 
his  motto,  and  the  plucky  little  lad  wouldn't 
show  fear  before  the  women. 


64  AUNT   KIPP. 

"  Don't  howl ;  we'll  do  it !  Hi,  Bob  ! "  and 
with  a  savage  slash  of  the  whip,  an  exciting  cry, 
a  terrible  reeling  and  rattling,  they  did  do  it ; 
for  Bob  cleared  the  track  at  a  breakneck  pace, 
jnst  in  time  for  the  train  to  sweep  swiftly  by 
behind  them. 

Aunt  Kipp  dropped  in  a  heap,  leaving  the  big 
bonnet  firmly  fixed  in  the  window.  Polly 
looked  up  at  her  brother,  with  a  look  which  he 
never  forgot;  and  Toady  tried  to  say,  stoutly, 
w  It's  all  right ! "  with  lips  that  were  white  and 
dry  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  We  shall  smash  up  at  the  bridge,"  he  mut 
tered,  as  they  tore  through  the  town,  where 
every  one  obligingly  shouted,  waved  their  hats, 
and  danced  about  on  the  sidewalks,  doing  noth 
ing  but  add  to  Bob's  fright  and  the  party's  dan 
ger.  But  Toady  was  wrong,  —  they  didn't 
smash  up  at  the  bridge  ;  for,  before  they  reached 
the  perilous  spot,  one  man  had  the  sense  to  fly 


AUNT   KIPP.  65 

straight  at  the  horse's  head  and  hold  on  like 
grim  death  till  the  momentary  check  enabled 
others  to  lend  a  hand. 

The  moment  they  were  safe,  Polly,  like  a 
regular  heroine,  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of 
her  dishevelled  preserver,  who  of  course  was 
Van,  and  would  have  refreshed  herself  with 
hysterics  if  the  sight  of  Toady  hadn't  steadied 
her.  The  boy  sat  as  stiff  and  rigid  as  a  wooden 
figure  till  they  took  the  reins  from  him ;  then  all 
the  strength  seemed  to  go  out  of  him,  and  he 
leaned  against  his  sister,  as  white  and  trembling 
as  she,  whispering  with  an  irrepressible  sob  :  — 

"O  Polly,  wasn't  it  horrid?  Tell  ma  I  stood 
by  you  like  a  man.  Do  tell  her  that ! " 

If  any  one  had  had  time  or  heart  to  laugh, 
they  certainly  would  have  done  it  when,  after 
much  groping,  heaving^  and  hoisting,  Mrs. 
Kipp  was  extricated  and  restored  to  conscious 
ness  ;  for  a  more  ludicrously  deplorable  specta- 


66  AUNT   KIPP. 

cle  was  seldom  seen.  Quite  unhurt,  though 
much  shaken,  the  old  lady  insisted  on  believing 
herself  to  be  dying,  and  kept  the  town  in  a  fer 
ment  till  three  doctors  had  pronounced  her  per 
fectly  well  able  to  go  home.  Then  the  perver 
sity  of  her  nature  induced  her  to  comply,  that 
she  might  have  the  satisfaction  of  dying  on  the 
way,  and  proving  herself  in  the  right. 

Unfortunately  she  didn't  expire,  but,  having 
safely  arrived,  went  to  bed  in  high  dudgeon,  and 
led  Polly  and  her  mother  a  sad  life  of  it  for  two 
weary  days.  Having  heard  of  Toady's  gallant 
behavior,  she  solemnly  ordered  him  up  to  re 
ceive  her  blessing.  But  the  sight  of  Aunt 
Kipp's  rubicund  visage,  surrounded  by  the  ram 
pantly  stiff  frills  of  an  immense  nightcap,  caused 
the  irreverent  boy  to  explode  with  laughter  in 
his  handkerchief,  and  to  be  hustled  away  by  his 
mother  before  Aunt  Kipp  discovered  the  true 
cause  of  his  convulsed  appearance. 


AUNT   KIPP.  67 

"  Ah  !  poor  dear,  his  feelings  are  too  much  for 
him.  He  sees  my  doom  in  my  face,  and  is 
overcome  by  what  you  refuse  to  believe.  I 
shan't  forget  that  boy's  devotion.  Now  leave 
me  to  the  meditations  befitting  these  solemn 
hours." 

Mrs.  Snow  retired,  and  Aunt  Kipp  tried  to 
sleep ;  but  the  murmur  of  voices  and  the  sound 
of  stifled  laughter  in  the  next  room  disturbed 
her  repose. 

"They  are  rejoicing  over  my  approaching  end, 
knowing  that  I  haven't  changed  my  will.  Mer 
cenary  creatures,  don't  exult  too  soon !  there's 
time  yet,"  she  muttered ;  and  presently,  unable 
to  control  her  curiosity,  she  crept  out  of  bed  to 
listen  and  peep  through  the  key-hole. 

Van  Bahr  Lamb  did  look  like  a  sheep.  He 
had  a  blond  curly  head,  a  long  face,  pale,  mild 
eyes,  a  plaintive  voice,  and  a  general  expression 
of  innocent  timidity  strongly  suggestive  of  ani- 


68  AUNT   KIPP. 

mated  mutton.  But  Baa-baa  was  a  "  trump,"  as 
Toady  emphatically  declared,  and  though  every 
one  laughed  at  him,  every  one  liked  him ;  and 
that  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  many  saints  and 
sages.  He  adored  Polly,  was  dutifully  kind  to 
ma,  and  had  stood  T.  Snow,  Jr.,  in  many  an 
hour  of  tribulation,  with  fraternal  fidelity. 
Though  he  had  long  blushed,  sighed,  and  cast 
sheep's  eyes  at  the  idol  of  his  affections,  only  till 
lately  had  he  dared  to  bleat  forth  his  passion. 
Polly  loved  him  because  she  couldn't  help  it; 
but  she  was  proud  and  wouldn't  marry  till  Aunt 
Kipp's  money  was  hers,  or  at  least  a  sure 
prospect  of  it ;  and  now  even  the  prospect  of  a 
prospect  was  destroyed  by  that  irrepressible 

Toady.     They  were  talking  of  this,  as  the  old 

• 

lady  suspected,  and  of  course  the  following  con 
versation  afforded  her  intense  satisfaction. 

"It's  a  shame  to  torment  us   as   she   does, 
knowing  how  poor  we   are  and  how  happy  a 


AUNT   KIPP.  69 

little  of  her  money  would  make  us.  I'm  tired 
of  being  a  slave  to  a  cantankerous  old  woman 
just  because  she's  rich.  If  it  wan't  for  ma,  I 
declare  I'd  wash  my  hands  of  her  entirely  and 
do  the  best  I  could  for  myself." 

"  Hooray  for  Polly  !  I  always  said  let  her  old 
money  go  and  be  jolly  without  it,"  cried  Toady, 
who,  in  his  character  of  wounded  hero,  reposed 
with  a  lordly  air  on  the  sofa  enjoying  the  fra 
grance  of  the  opodeldoc  with  which  his  strained 
wrists  were  bandaged. 

"It's  on  your  account,  children,  that  I  bear 
with  aunt's  temper  as  I  do.  I  don't  want  any 
thing  for  myself,  but  I  really  think  she  owes  it 
to  your  dear  pa,  who  was  devoted  to  her  while 
he  lived,  to  provide  for  his  children  when  he 
couldn't;"  after  which  remarkably  spirited 
speech  for  her,  Mrs.  Snow  dropped  a  tear  and 
stitched  away  on  a  small  trouser-leg  which  was 
suffering  from  a  complicated  compound  fracture. 


70  AUNT   KIPP. 

"Don't  you  worry  about  me,  ma;  I'll  take 
care  of  myself  and  you  too,"  remarked  Toady, 
with  the  cheery  belief  in  impossibilities  which 
makes  youth  so  charming. 

"Now,  Van,  tell  us  what  to  do,  for  things 
have  come  to  such  a  pass  that  we  must  either 
break  away  altogether  or  be  galley-slaves  as 
long  as  Aunt  Kipp  lives,"  said  Polly,  who  was  a 
good  deal  excited  about  the  matter. 

"Well,  really,  my  dear,  I  don't  know,"  hesi 
tated  Van,  who  did  know  what  lie  wanted,  but 
thought  it  might  be  selfish  to  urge  it.  "Have 
you  tried  to  soften  your  aunt's  heart? "he  asked, 
after  a  moment's  meditation. 

"  Good  gracious,  Van,  she  hasn't  got  any," 
cried  Polly,  who  firmly  believed  it. 

"It's  hossified,"  thoughtfully  remarked  Toady, 
quite  unconscious  of  any  approach  to  a  joke  till 
every  one  giggled. 

"You've    had    hossification    enough  for    one 


AUNT   KIPP.  71 

while,  my  lad,"  laughed  Van.  «  Well,  Polly,  if 
the  old  lady  has  no  heart  you'd  better  «let  her 
go,  for  people  without  'em  aint  worth  much." 

w  That's  a  beautiful  remark,  Van,  and  a  wise 
one.  I  just  wish  she  could  hear  you  make  it, 
for  she  called  you  a  fool,"  said  Polly,  irefully. 

"Did  she?  Well,  I  don't  mind,  I'm  used  to 
it,"  returned  Van,  placidly ;  and  so  he  was,  for 
Polly  called  him  a  goose  every  day  of  her  life, 
and  he  enjoyed  'it  immensely. 

"  Then  you  think,  dear,  if  we  stopped  worry 
ing  about  aunt  and  her  money,  and  worked  in 
stead  of  waited,  that  we  shouldn't  be  any 
poorer  and  might  be  a  great  deal  happier  than 
we  are-  now  ? "  asked  Polly,  making  a  pretty 
little  tableau  as  she  put  her  hand  through  Van's 
arm  and  looked  up  at  him  with  as  much  love, 
respect,  and  reliance  as  if  he  had  been  a  manly 
six-footer  with  the  face  of  an  Apollo  and  the 
manners-  of  a  Chesterfield. 


72  AUNT  KIPP. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  I  do,  for  it  has  troubled  me  a 
good  deal  to  see  you  so  badgered  by  that  old  — 
would  you  mind  if  I  said,  plagae?  Indepen 
dence  is  a  very  nice  thing,  and  poverty  isn't 
half  as  bad  as  this  sort  of  slavery.  But  you  aint 
going  to  be  poor,  nor  grub,  nor  worry  about 
anything.  We'll  just  be  married,  and  take  ma 
and  Toady  home,  and  be  as  jolly  as  grigs,  and 
never  bother  about  Mrs.  K.  again,  — unless  she 
loses  her  fortune,  or  gets  sick,  or  comes  to  grief 
in  any  way.  We'd  lend  her  a  hand  then, 
wouldn't  we,  Polly?"  and  Van's  mild  face  was 
pleasant  to  behold  as  he  made  the  kindly  propo 
sition. 

"Well,  we'll  think  of  it,"  said  Polly,  trying 
not  to  relent,  but  feeling  that  she  was  going 
very  fast. 

f<  Lot's  do  it ! "  cried  Toady,  fired  with  the 
thought  of  privy  conspiracy  and  rebellion. 
"  Ma  would  be  no  end  comfortable  with  Polly, 


AUNT  KIPP.  73 

and  I'd  help  Van  in  the  store,  when  I  learned 
that  confounded  multiplication  table,"  he  added, 
with  a  groan  ;  "  and  if  Aunt  Kipp  comes  a-visit- 
ing,  we'll  just  sing  out  'Not  at  home,'  and  let 
her  bundle  off  again." 

"  It  sounds  very  nice  ;  but  aunt  will  be  dread 
fully  offended,  and  I  don't  wish  to  be  ungrate 
ful,"  said  ma,  brightening  visibly. 

"There's  no  ingratitude  about  it,"  cried  Van. 
w  She  might  have  done  everything  to  make  you 
love  and  respect  and  admire  her,  and  been  a 
happy,  useful,  motherly,  old  soul;  but  she 
didn't  choose  to,  and  now  she  must  take  the 
consequences.  No  one  cares  for  her,  because 
she  cares  for  nobody ;  her  money's  the  plague 
of  her  life,  and  not  a  single  heart  will  ache  when 
she  dies." 

"Poor  Aunt  Kipp  ! "  said  Polly,  softly. 

Mrs.  Snow  echoed  the  words,  and  for  a  mo 
ment  all  thought  pitifully  of  the  woman  whose 


74  AUNT   KIPP. 

life  had  given  so  little  happiness,  whose  age  had 
won  so  little  reverence,  and  whose  death  would 
make  so  little  regret.  Even  Toady  had  a  kind 
thought  for  her,  as  he  broke  the  silence,  saying 
soberly :  — 

"You'd  better  put  tails  on  my  jackets,  ma; 
then,  the  next  time  we  get  run  away  with,  Aunt 
Kipp  will  have  something  to  hold  on  by." 

It  was  impossible  to  help  laughing  at  the 
recollection  of  the  old  lady  clutching  at  the  boy 
till  he  had  hardly  a  button  left,  and  at  the  pater 
nal  air  with  which  he  now  proposed  a  much- 
desired  change  of  costume,  as  if  intent  on  Aunt 
Kipp's  future  accommodation. 

Under  cover  of  the  laugh,  the  old  lady  stole 
back  to  bed,  wide  awake,  and  with  subjects 
enough  to  meditate  upon  now.  The  shaking-up 
had  certainly  done  her  good,  for  somehow  the 
few  virtues  she  possessed  came  to  the  surface, 
and  the  mental  shower-bath  just  received  had 


AUNT   KIPP.  75 

produced  a  salutary  change.  Polly  wouldn't 
have  doubted  her  aunt's  possession  of  a  heart, 
if  she  could  have  known  the  pain  and  loneliness 
that  made  it  ache,  as  the  old  woman  crept 
away ;  and  Toady  wouldn't  have  laughed  if  he 
had  seen  the  tears  on  the  face,  between  the  big 
frills,  as  Aunt  Kipp  laid  it  on  the  pillow,  mut 
tering,  drearily :  — 

"I  might  have  been  a  happy,  useful  woman; 
but  I  didn't  choose  to,  and  now  it's  too  late." 

It  WQLS  too  late  to  be  all  she  might  have  been, 
for  the  work  of  seventy  selfish  years  couldn't  be 
undone  in  a  minute.  But  with  regret,  rose  the 
sincere  wish  to  earn  a  little  love  before  the  end 
came,  and  the  old  perversity  gave  a  relish  to  the 
reformation,  for  even  while  she  resolved  to  do 
the  just  and  generous  thing,  she  said  to  her 
self:— 

"  They  say  I've  got  no  heart ;  I'll  show  'em 
that  I  have  :  they  don't  want  my  money ;  I'll 


76 


AUNT   KIPP. 


make  'em  take  it :  they  turn  their  backs  on  me  ; 
I'll  just  render  myself  so  useful  and  agreeable 
that  they  can't  do  without  me." 


AUNT  KIPP. 


77 


III. 

AUNT  KIPP  sat  bolt  upright  in  the  parlor, 
hemming  a  small  handkerchief,  adorned  with  .a 
red  ship,  surrounded  by  an  appropriate  border 
of  green  monkeys.  Toady  suspected  that  this 
elegant  article  of  dress  was  intended  for  him, 
and  yearned  to  possess  it ;  so,  taking  advantage 
of  his  mother's  and  Polly's  absence,  he  strolled 
into  the  room,  and,  seating  himself  on  a  high, 
hard  chair,  folded  his  hands,  crossed  his  legs, 
and  asked  for  a  story  with  the  thirsting-for- 
knowledge  air  which  little  boys  wear  in  the 
moral  story-books. 

Now  Aunt  Kipp  had  one  soft  place  in  her 
heart,  though  it  was  partially  ossified,  as  she 
very  truly  declared,  and  Toady  was  enshrined 
therein.  She  thought  there  never  was  such  a 


78  AUNT   KIPP. 

child,  and  loved  him  as  she  had  done  his  father 
before  him,  though  the  rack  "wouldn't  have 
forced  her  to  confess  it.  She  scolded,  snubbed, 
and  predicted  he'd  come  to  a  bad  end  in  public ; 
but  she  forgave  his  naughtiest  pranks,  always 
brought  him  something  when  she  came,  and  pri 
vately  intended  to  make  his  future  comfortable 
with  half  of  her  fortune.  There  was  a  dash  and 
daring,  a  generosity  and  integrity,  about  the 
little  fellow,  that  charmed  her.  Sophy  was 
weak  and  low-spirited,  Polly  pretty  and  head 
strong,  and  Aunt  Kipp  didn't  think  much  of 
either  of  them ;  but  Toady  defied,  distracted, 
and  delighted  her,  and  to  Toady  she  clung,  as 
the  one  sunshiny  thing  in  her  sour,  selfish  old 
age. 

When  he  made  his  demure  request,  she 
looked  at  him,  and  her  eyes  began  to  twinkle, 
for  the  child's  purpose  was  plainly  seen  in  the 


AUNT   KIPP.  79 

> 

loving  glances  cast  upon  the  pictorial  pocket- 
handkerchief. 

"A  story?  Yes,  I'll  tell  you  one  about  a 
little  boy  who  had  a  kind  old  —  ahem  !  —  grand 
ma.  She  was  rich,  and  hadn't  made  up  her 
mind  who  she'd  leave  her  money  to.  She  was 
fond  of  the  boy,  —  a  deal  fonder  than  he  de 
served, —  for  he  was  as  mischievous  a  monkey 
as  any  that  ever  lived  in  a  tree,  with  a  curly 
tail.  He  put  pepper  in  her  snuff-box,"  —  here 
Toady  turned  scarlet;  "he  cut  up  her  best 
frisette  to  make  a  mane  for  his  rocking-horse," 
—  Toady  opened  his  mouth  impulsively,  but 
shut  it  again  without  betraying  himself;  "he 
repeated  rude  things  to  her,  and  called  her  ?  an 
old  aggrewater,' "  —  here  Toady  wriggled  in  his 
chair,  and  gave  a  little  gasp. 

"  If  you  are  tired  I  won't  go  on,"  observed 
Aunt  Kipp,  mildly. 

"I    aint    tired,   'm;    it's   a  very   interesting 


80  AUNT   KIPP. 

stqry,"  replied  Toady,  with  a  gravity  that  nearly 
upset  the  old  lady. 

"Well,  iu  spite  of  all  this,  that  kind,  good, 
forgiving  grandma  left  that  bad  boy  twenty 
thousand  dollars  when  she  died.  What  do  you 
think  of  that?"  asked  Aunt  Kipp,  pausing  sud 
denly  with  her  sharp  eye  on  him. 

"I  —  I  think  she  was  a  regular  brick,"  cried 
Toady,  holding  on  to  the  chair  with  both  hands, 
as  if  that  climax  rather  took  him  off  his  legs. 

"And  what  did  the  boy  do  about  it?"  con 
tinued  Aunt  Kipp,  curiously. 

"He  bought  a  velocipede,  and  gave  his  sister 
half,  and  paid  his  ma's  rent,  and  put  a  splendid 
marble  cherakin  over  the  old  lady,  and  had  a 
jolly  good  time,  and  —  " 

"  What  in  the  world  is  a  cherakin  ? "  laughed 
Aunt  Kipp,  as  Toady  paused  for  breath. 

*  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  It's  a  angel  cryin', 
or  pointin'  up,  or  flappin'  his  wings.  They  have 


AUNT  KIPP.  81 

'em  over  dead  folks'  graves  ;  and  I'll  give  you 
the  biggest  one  I  can  find  when  you  die.  But  I 
aint  in  a  very  great  hurry  to  have  you. " 

"Thankee,  dear;  I'm  in  no  hurry  myself. 
But,  Toady,  the  boy  did  wrong  in  giving  his 
sister  half;  she  didn't  deserve  any;  and  the 
grandma  left  word  she  wasn't  to  have  a  penny 
of  it." 

'Really?"  cried  the  boy,  with  a  troubled 
face. 

"Yes,  really.  If  he  gave  her  any  he  lost  it 
all ;  the  old  lady  said  so.  Now  what  do  you 
think?"  asked  Aunt  Kipp,  who  found  it  im 
possible  to  pardon  Polly,  —  perhaps  because  she 
was  young,  and  pretty,  and  much  beloved. 

Toady's  eyes  kindled,  and  his  red  cheeks 
grew  redder  still,  as  he  cried  out  defiantly :  — 

"I  think  she  was  a  selfish  pig,  —  don't 
you?" 

"  No,  I  don't,  sir ;  and  I'm  sure  that  little  boy 


82  AUNT   KIPP. 

wasn't  such  a  fool  as  to  lose  the  money.  He 
minded  his  grandma's  wishes,  and  kept  it 
all." 

"No,  he  didn't,"  roared  Toady,  tumbling  off 
his  chair  in  great  excitement.  "  He  just  chucked 
it  out  a  winder,  and  smashed  the  old  cherakin 
all  to  bits." 

Aunt  Kipp  dropped  her  work  with  a  shrill 
squeak,  for  she  thought  the  boy  was  dangerous, 
as  he  stood  before  her  sparring  away  at  nothing 
as  the  only  vent  for  his  indignation. 

"It  aint  an  interesting  story,"  he  bawled; 
"  and  I  won't  hear  any  more  ;  and  I  won't  have 
your  money  if  I  mayn't  go  halves  with  Polly ; 
and  I'll  work  to  earn  more'n  that,  and  we'll  all 
be  jolly  together,  and  you  may  give  your  twenty 
thousand  to  the  old  rag-bags,  and  so  I  tell  you, 
Aunt  Kipp." 

"Why,  Toady,  my  boy,  what's  the  matter?" 


AUNT   KIPP.  33 

cried  a  mild  voice  at  the  door,  as  young  Lamb 
came  trotting  up  to  the  rescue. 

"Never  you  mind,  Baa-baa;  I  shan't  do  it; 
and  it's  a  mean  shame  Polly  can't  have  half; 
then  she  could  marry  you  and  be  no  end  happy," 
blubbered  Toady,  running  to  try  to  hide  his 
tears  of  disappointment  in  the  coat-skirts  of  his 
friend. 

"  Mr.  Lamb,  I  suppose  you  are  that  misguided 
young  man?"  said  Aunt  Kipp,  as  if  it  was  a 
personal  insult  to  herself. 

"  Van  Bahr  Lamb,  ma'am,  if  you  please.  Yes, 
thank  you,"  murmured  Baa-baa,  bowing,  blush 
ing,  and  rumpling  his  curly  fleece  in  bashful 
trepidation. 

"Don't  thank  me,"  cried  the  old  lady.  "I'm 
not  going  to  give  you  anything,  —  far  from  it. 
I  object  to  you  altogether.  What  business  have 
you  to  come  courting  my  niece  ?  " 


84  AUNT   KIPP. 

"Because  I  love  her,  ma'am,"  returned  Van, 
with  unexpected  spirit. 

"No,  you  don't;  you  want  her  money,  or 
rather  my  money.  She  depends  on  it;  but 
you'll  both  be  disappointed,  for  she  won't  have 
a  penny  of  it,"  cried  Aunt  Kipp,  who,  in  spite 
of  her  good  resolutions,  found  it  impossible  to 
be  amiable  all  at  once. 

"I'm  glad  of  it !  "  burst  out  Yan,  indignant  at 
her  accusation.  "I  didn't  want  Polly  for  the 
money ;  I  always  doubted  if  she  got  it ;  and  I 
never  wished  her  to  make  herself  a  slave  to  any 
body.  I've  got  enough  for  all,  if  we're  careful ; 
and  when  my  share  of  the  Yan  Bahr  property 
comes,  we  shall  live  in  clover." 

"What's  that?  What  property  are  you  talk 
ing  of?"  demanded  Aunt  Kipp,  pricking  up  her 
ears. 

"  The  great  Yan  Bahr  estate,  ma'am.  There 
has  been  a  long  lawsuit  about  it,  but  it's  nearly 


AUNT  KIPP.  85 

settled,  and  there  isn't  much  doubt  that  we 
shall  get  it.  I  am  the  last  of  our  branch,  and 
my  share  will  be  a  big  one." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  I  wish  you  joy,"  said  Aunt 
Kipp,  with  sudden  affability;  for  she  adored 
wealth,  like  a  few  other  persons  in  the  world. 
"But  suppose  you  don't  get  it,  how  then?" 

"  Then  I  shall  try  to  be  contented  with  my 
salary  of  two  thousand,  and  make  Polly  as 
happy  as  I  can.  Money  don't  always  make 
people  happy  or  agreeable,  I  find."  And  Van 
looked  at  Aunt  Kipp  in  a  way  that  would  have 
made  her  hair  stand  erect  if  she'd  had  any.  She 
stared  at  him  a  moment,  then,  obeying  one  of 
the  odd  whims  that  made  an  irascible  weather 
cock  of  her,  she  said,  abruptly  :  — 

w  If  you  had  capital  should  you  go  into  busi 
ness  for  yourself,  Mr.  Lambkin?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  at  once,"  replied  Van, 
promptly. 


86  AUNT  KIPP. 

"Suppose  you  lost  the  Van  Bahr  money,  and 
some  one  offered  you  a  tidy  little  sum  to  start 
with,  would  you  take  it?' 

"  It  would  depend  upon  who  made  the  offer, 
ma'am,"  said  Van,  looking  more  like  a  sheep 
than  ever,  as  he  stood  poking  his  head  forward, 
and  staring  in  blank  surprise. 

"Suppose  it  was  me,  wouldn't  you  take  it?" 
asked  Aunt  Kipp,  blandly,  for  the  new  fancy 
pleased  her. 

"  No,  thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Yan,  de 
cidedly. 

"And  why  not,  pray?"  cried  the  old  lady, 
with  a  shrillness  that  made  him  jump,  and  Toady 
back  to  the  door  precipitately. 

"Because,  if  you'll  excuse  my  speaking 
plainly,  I  think  you  owe  anything  you  may  have 
to  spare  to  your  niece,  Mrs.  Snow ; "  and, 
having  freed  his  mind,  Van  joined  Toady,  ready 
to  fly  if  necessaiy. 


AUNT   KIPP.  87 

"You're  an  idiot,  sir,"  began  Aunt  Kipp,  in 
a  rage  again. 

"Thank  you,  ma'am."  And  Van  actually 
laughed  and  bowed  in  return  for  the  compli 
ment. 

"Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  snapped  the  old 
lady.  "You're  a  fool  and  Sophy  is  another. 
She's  no  strength  of  mind,  no  sense  about  any 
thing  ;  and  would  make  ducks  and  drakes  of  my 
money  in  less  than  no  time  if  I  gave  it  to  her, 
as  I've  thought  of  doing." 

"Mrs.  Kipp,  you  forget  who  you  are  speaking 
to.  Mrs.  Snow's  sons  love  and  respect  her  if 
you  don't,  and  they  won't  hear  anything  untrue 
or  unkind  said  of  a  good  woman,  a  devoted 
mother,  and  an  almost  friendless  widow." 

Van  wasn't  a  dignified  man  at  all,  but  as  he 
said  that  with  a  sudden  flash  of  his  mild  eyes, 
there  was  something  in  his  face  and  manner  that 
daunted  Aunt  Kipp  more  than  the  small  fist 


88  AUNT   KIPP. 

belligerently  shaken  at  her  from  behind  the 
sofa.  The  poor  old  soul  was  cross,  and  worried, 
and  ashamed  of  herself,  and  being  as  feeble 
minded  as  Sophy  in  many  respects,  she  suddenly 
burst  into  tears,  and,  covering  her  face  with  the 
gay  handkerchief,  cried  as  if  bent  on  floating  the 
red  ship  in  a  sea  of  salt  water  without  delay. 

"  I'm  a  poor,  lonely,  abused  old  woman,"  she 
moaned,  with  a  green  monkey  at  each  eye. 
"No  one  loves  me,  or  minds  me,  or  thanks  me 
when  I  want  to  help  'em.  My  money's  only  a 
worriment  and  a  burden,  and  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  with  it,  for  them  I  don't  want  to 
leave  it  to  ought  to  have  it,  and  them  I  do  like 
won't  take  it.  Oh,  deary  me,  what  shall  I  do  ! 
what  shall  I  do  !  " 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,  ina'tim?  "  asked  Van,  gently, 
for,  though  she  was  a  very  provoking  old  party, 
he  pitied  and  wished  to  help  her. 

A  nod  and  a  gurgle  seemed  to  give  consent, 


AUNT   KIPP.  89 

and,  boldly  advancing,  Van  said,  with  a  blush 
and  a  stammer,  and  a  somewhat  mild  expression, 
but  a  very  hearty  voice :  — 

"I  think,  ma'am,  if  you'd  do  the  right  thing 
with  your  money  you'd  be  at  ease  and  find  it 
saved  a  deal  of  worry  all  round.  Give  it  to 
Mrs.  Snow ;  she  deserves  it,  poor  lady,  for  she's 
had  a  hard  time,  and  done  her  duty  faithfully. 
Don't  wait  till  you  are  — that  is  till  you  —  well, 
till  you  in  point  of  fact  die,  ma'am.  Give  it 
now,  and  enjoy  the  happiness  it  will,  make. 
Give  it  kindly,  let  'em  see  you're  glad  to  do  it, 
and  I  am  sure  you'll  find  'em  grateful ;  I'm  sure 
you  won't  be  lonely  any  more,  or  feel  that  you 
aint  loved  and  thanked.  Try  it,  ma'am,  just  try 
it,"  cried  Van,  getting  excited  by  the  picture 
he  drew.  "And  I  give  you  my  word  I'll  do 
my  best  to  respect  and  love  you  like  a  son, 
ma'am." 

He  knew  that  he  was  promising  a  great  deal, 


90  AUNT  KIPP. 

but  for  Polly's  sake  he  felt  that  he  could  make 
even  that  Herculean  effort.  Aunt  Kipp  was 
surprised  and  touched ;  but  the  contrary  old 
lady  couldn't  make  up  her  mind  to  yield  so 
soon,  and  wouldn't  have  done  it  if  Toady  hadn't 
taken  her  by  storm.  Having  a  truly  masculine 
horror  of  tears,  and  a  very  tender  heart  under 
his  tailless  jacket,  and  being  much  "  tumbled  up 
and  down  in  his  own  mind  "  by  the  events  of 
the  week,  the  poor  little  lad  felt  nerved  to 
attempt  any  novel  enterprise,  even  that  of  vol 
untarily  embracing  Aunt  Kipp.  First  a  grimy 
little  hand  came  on  her  shoulder,  as  she  sat 
sniffing  behind  the  handkerchief;  then,  peeping 
out,  she  saw  an  apple-cheeked  face  very  near 
her  own,  with  eyes  full  of  pity,  penitence,  and 
affection;  and  then  she  heard  a  choky  little 
voice  say  earnestly  :  — 

"Don't  cry,  aunty;    I'm  sorry  I   was  rude. 
Please  be  good  to  ma  and  Polly,  and  I'll  love 


AUNT  KIPP.  91 

and  take  care  of  you,  and  stand  by  you  like  a 
trump.  Yes,  I'll  —  I'll  Jciss  you,  I  will,  by 
George  !  "  And  with  one  promiscuous  plunge 
the  Spartan  boy  cast  himself  into  her  arms. 

That  finished  Aunt  Kipp;  she  hugged  him 
close,  and  cried  out,  with  a  salute  that  went  off 
like  a  pistol-shot :  — 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear !  this  is  better  than 
a  dozen  cherakins  !  " 

When  Toady  emerged,  somewhat  flushed  and 
tumbled,  ma,  Polly,  and  Yan,  were  looking  on 
with  faces  full  of  wonder,  doubt,  and  satisfac 
tion.  To  be  an  object  of  interest  was  agreeable 
to  Aunt  Kipp  ;  and,  as  her  old  heart  was  really 
softened,  she  met  them  with  a  gracious  smile, 
and  extended  the  olive-branch  generally. 

"Sophy,  I  shall  give  my  money  to  you  at 
once  and  entirely,  only  asking  that  you'll  let 
me  stay  with  you  when  Polly's  gone.  I'll  do 
my  best  to  be  agreeable,  and  you'll  bear  with 


92  AUNT  KIPP. 

me,  because  I'm  a  cranky,  solitary  old  woman, 
and  I  loved  your  husband." 

Mrs.  Snow  hugged  her  on  the  spot,  and 
gushed,  of  course,  murmuring  thanks,  wel 
comes,  and  promises  in  one  grateful  burst. 

"Polly,  I  forgive  you;  I  consent  to  your  mar 
riage,  and  will  provide  your  wedding  finery. 
Mr.  Lamb  you  are  not  a  fool,  but  a  very  excel 
lent  young  man.  I  thank  you  for  saving  my 
life,  and  I  wish  you  well  with  all  my  heart. 
You  needn't  say  anything.  I'm  far  from  strong, 
and  all  this  agitation  is  shortening  my  life." 

Polly  and  Van  shook  her  hand  heartily,  and 
beamed  upon  each  other  like  a  pair  of  infatu 
ated  turtle-doves  with  good  prospects. 

"Theodore,  you  are  as  near  an  angel  as  a  boy 
can  be.  Put  a  name  to  whatever  you  most 
wish  for  in  the  world,  and  it's  yours,"  said 
Aunt  Kipp,  dramatically  waving  the  rest 
away. 


AUNT   KIPP.  93 

With  his  short  legs  wide  apart,  his  hands  be 
hind  him,  and  his  rosy  face  as  round  and  radi 
ant  as  a  rising  sun,  Toady  stood  before  the  fire 
surveying  the  scene  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
has  successfully  carried  through  a  difficult  and 
dangerous  undertaking,  and  wasn't  proud.  His 
face  brightened,  then  fell,  as  he  heaved  a  sigh, 
and  answered,  with  a  shake  of  his  curly 
head :  — 

"You  can't  give  me  what  I  want  most. 
There's  three  things,  and  I've  got  to  wait  for 
'em  all." 

"  Gracious  me,  what  are  they?"  cried  the  old 
lady,  good-naturedly,  for  she  felt  better  al 
ready. 

"A  mustache,  a  beaver,  and  a  sweetheart," 
answered  Toady,  with  his  eyes  fixed  wistfully 
on  Baa-baa,  who  possessed  all  these  blessings, 
and  was  particularly  enjoying  the  latter  at  that 
moment. 


94  AUNT   KIPP. 

How  Aunt  Kipp  did  laugh  at  this  early  bud 
ding  of  romance  in  her  pet !  And  all  the  rest 
joined  her,  for  Toady's  sentimental  air  was  irre 
sistible. 

"  You  precocious  chick  I  I  dare  say  you  will 
have  'em  all  before  we  know  where  we  are. 
Never  mind,  deary ;  you  shall  have  my  little 
watch,  and  the  silver  teapot  with  the  boar's 
head  on  the  lid,"  answered  the  old  lady,  in  high 
good-humor.  "You  needn't  blush,  Polly;  I 
don't  bear  malice ;  so  let's  forget  and  forgive. 
I  shall  settle  things  to-morrow,  and  have  a  free 
mind.  You  are  welcome  to  my  money,  and  I 
hope  I  shall  live  to  see  you  all  enjoy  it." 

So  she  did ;  for  she  lived  to  see  Sophy 
plump,  cheery,  and  care-free ;  Polly  sur 
rounded  by  a  flock  of  Lambkins ;  Yan  in  posses 
sion  of  a  generous  slice  of  the  Yan  Bahr  for 
tune ;  Toady  revelling  in  the  objects  of  his 


AUNT  KIPP.  95 

desire  ;  and,  best  of  all,  she  lived  to  find  that  it 
is  never  too  late  to  make  one's  self  useful,  happy 
and  beloved. 


PSYCHE'S  ART. 


"  Handsome  is  that  handsome  does." 


I. 


ONCE  upon  a  time  there  raged  in  a  certain 
city  one  of  those  fashionable  epidemics  which 
occasionally  attack  our  youthful  population.  It 
wasn't  the  music  mania,  nor  gymnastic  convul 
sions,  nor  that  wide-spread  malady,  croquet. 
Neither  was  it  one  of  the  new  dances  which, 
like  a  tarantula-bite,  set  every  one  a-twirling, 
nor  stage  madness,  nor  yet  that  American  lec 
turing  influenza  which  yearly  sweeps  over  the 
land.  No,  it  was  a  new  disease  called  the  Art 

96 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  97 

fever,  and  it  attacked  the  young  women  of  the 
community  with  great  violence. 

Nothing  but  time  could  cure  it,  and  it  ran  its 
course  to  the  dismay,  amusement,  or  edification 
of  the  beholders,  for  its  victims  did  all  manner 
of  queer  things  in  their  delirium.  They  be 
sieged  potteries  for  clay,  drove  Italian  plaster- 
workers  out  of  their  wits  with  unexecutable 
orders,  got  neuralgia  and  rheumatism  sketching 
perched  on  fences  and  trees  like  artistic  hens, 
and  caused  a  rise  in  the  price  of  bread,  paper, 
and  charcoal,  by  their  order  in  crayoning. 
They  covered  canvas  with  the  expedition  of 
scene-painters,  had  classes,  lectures,  receptions, 
and  exhibitions,  made  models  of  each  other,  and 
rendered  their  walls  hideous  with  bad  likenesses 
of  all  their  friends.  Their  conversation  ceased 
to  be  intelligible  to  the  uninitiated,  and  they 
prattled  prettily  of  "  chiaro-oscuro,  French 
sauce,  refraction  of  the  angle  of  the  eye,  seventh 


98  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

spinus  process,  depth  and  juiciness  of  color, 
tender  touch,  and  a  good  tone."  Even  in  dress 
the  artistic  disorder  was  visible ;  some  cast 
aside  crinoline  altogether,  and  stalked  about 
with  a  severe  simplicity  of  outline  worthy  of 
Flaxman.  Others  flushed  themselves  with  scar 
let,  that  no  landscape  which  they  adorned  should 
be  without  some  touch  of  Turner's  favorite  tint. 
Some  were  blue  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  and 
the  heads  of  all  were  adorned  with  classic  braids, 
curls  tied  Hebe-wise,  or  hair  dressed  a  la  hurri 
cane. 

It  was  found  impossible  to  keep  them  safe  at 
home,  and,  as  the  fever  grew,  these  harmless 
maniacs  invaded  the  sacred  retreats  where 
artists  of  the  other  sex  did  congregate,  startling 
those  anchorites  with  visions  of  large-eyed 
damsels  bearing  portfolios  in  hands  delicately 
begrimed  with  crayon,  chalk,  and  clay,  gliding 
through  the  corridors  hitherto  haunted  only  by 


99 

shabby  paletots,  shadowy  hats,  and  cigar  smoke. 
This  irruption  was  borne  with  manly  fortitude, 
not  to  say  cheerfulness,  for  studio  doors  stood 
hospitably  open  as  the  fair  invaders  passed,  and 
studies  from  life  were  generously  offered  them 
in  glimpses  of  picturesque  gentlemen  posed  be 
fore  easels,  brooding  over  master-pieces  in  "a 
divine  despair,"  or  attitudinizing  upon  couches 
as  if  exhausted  by  the  soarings  of  genius. 

An  atmosphere  of  romance  began  to  pervade 
the  old  buildings  when  the  girls  came,  and 
nature  and  art  took  turns.  There  were  peep- 
ings  and  whisperings,  much  stifled  laughter  and 
whisking  in  and  out;  not  to  mention  the  acci 
dental  rencontres,  small  services,  and  eye  tele 
grams,  which  somewhat  lightened  the  severe 
studies  of  all  parties. 

Half-a-dozen  young  victims  of  this  malady 
met  daily  in  one  of  the  cells  of  a  great  art  bee 
hive  called  "Eaphel's  Booms,"  and  devoted  their 


100 

shining  hours  to  modelling  fancy  heads,  gossip 
ing  the  while ;  for  the  poor  things  found  the 
road  to  fame  rather  dull  and  dusty  without  such 
verbal  sprinklings. 

"Psyche  Dean,  you've  had  an  adventure!  I 
see  it  in  your  face  ;  so  tell  it  at  once,  for  we  are 
as  stupid  as  owls  here  to-day,"  cried  one  of  the 
sisterhood,  as  a  bright-eyed  girl  entered  with 
some  precipitation. 

"I  dropped  my  portfolio,  and  a  man  picked  it 
up,  that's  all,"  replied  Psyche,  hurrying  on  her 
gray  linen  pinafore. 

"  That  won't  do ;  I  know  something  interest 
ing  happened,  for  you've  been  blushing,  and  you 
look  brisker  than  usual  this  morning,"  said  the 
first  speaker,  polishing  off  the  massive  nose  of 
'her  Homer. 

"  It  wasn't  anything,"  began  Psyche,  a  little 
reluctantly.  "  I  was  coming  up  in  a  hurry  when 
I  ran  against  a  man  coming  down  in  a  hurry. 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  101 

My  portfolio  slipped,  and  my  papers  went  flying 
all  about  the  landing.  Of  course  we  both 
laughed  and  begged  pardon,  and  I  began  to  pick 
them  up,  but  he  wouldn't  let  me  ;  so  I  held  the 
book  while  he  collected  the  sketches.  I  saw 
him  glance  at  them  as  he  did  so,  and  that  made 
me  blush,  for  they  are  wretched  things,  you 
know." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  they  are  capital,  and  you 
are  a  regular  genius,  as  we  all  agree,"  cut  in  the 
Homeric  Miss  Cutter. 

"Never  tell  people  they  are  geniuses  unless 
you  wish  to  spoil  them,"  returned  Psyche, 
severely.  "Well,  when  the  portfolio  was  put  to 
rights  I  was  going  on,  but  he  fell  to  picking  up 
a  little  bunch  of  violets  I  had  dropped;  you 
know  I  always  wear  a  posy  into  town  to  give  me 
inspiration.  I  didn't  care  for  the  dusty  flowers, 
and  told  him  so,  and  scrambled  away  before  any 
one  came.  At  the  top  of  the  stairs  I  peeped 


102  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

over  the  railing,  and  there  he  was,  gathering  up 
every  one  of  those  half-dead  violets  as  carefully 
as  if  they  had  been  tea-roses." 

"Psyche  Dean,  you  have  met  your  fate  this 
day !  "  exclaimed  a  third  damsel,  with  straw- 
colored  tresses,  and  a  good  deal  of  weedy  shrub 
bery  in  her  hat,  which  gave  an  Ophelia-like 
expression  to  her  sentimental  countenance. 

Psyche  frowned  and  shook  her  head  as  if  half 
sorry  she  had  told  her  little  story. 

"Was  he  handsome?"  asked  Miss  Larkins, 
the  believer  in  fate. 

"I  didn't  particularly  observe." 

"It  was  the  red-headed  man,  whom  we  call 
Titian ;  he's  always  on  the  stairs." 

"JSTo,  it  wasn't;  his  hair  was  brown  and 
curly,"  cried  Psyche,  innocently  falling  into  the 
trap. 

"Like  Peerybingle's  baby  when  its  cap  was 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  103 

taken  off,"  quoted  Miss  Dickensou,  who  pined  to 
drop  the  last  two  letters  of  her  name. 

"Was  it  Murillo,  the  black-eyed  one?"  asked 
the  fair  Cutter,  for  the  girls  had  a  name  for  all 
the  attitudinizers  and  promenaders  whom  they 
oftenest  met. 

"No,  he  had  gray  eyes,  and  very  fine  ones 
they  were  too,"  answered  Psyche,  adding,  as  if 
to  herself,  "he  looked  as  I  imagine  Michael 
Angelo  might  have  looked  when  young." 

"  Had  he  a  broken  nose  like  the  great  Mike  ?  " 
asked  an  irreverent  damsel. 

"If  he  had,  no  one  would  mind  it,  for  his 
head  is  splendid ;  he  took  his  hat  off,  so  I  had  a 
fine  view.  He  isn't  handsome,  but  he'll  do 
something,"  said  Psyche,  prophetically,  as  she 
recalled  the  strong,  ambitious  face  which  she 
had  often  observed,  but  never  mentioned  be 
fore. 

"Well,    dear,    considering    that    you    didn't 


104  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

'particularly  look'  at  the  man,  you've  given  us  a 
very  good  idea  of  his  appearance.  We'll  call 
him  Michael  Angelo,  and  he  shall  be  your  idol. 
I  prefer  stout  old  Rembrandt  myself,  and  Larkie 
adores  that  dandefied  Raphael,"  said  the  lively 
Cutter,  slapping  away  at  Homer's  bald  pate 
energetically,  as  she  spoke. 

"  Raphael  is  a  dear,  but  Rubens  is  more  to  my 
taste  now,"  returned  Miss  Larkins.  "He  was  in 
the  hall  yesterday  talking  with  Sir  Joshua,  who 
had  his  inevitable  umbrella,  like  a  true  English 
man.  Just  as  I  came  up,  the  umbrella  fell 
right  before  me.  I  started  back ;  Sir  Joshua 
laughed,  but  Rubens  said,  ' Deuce  take  it!'  and 
caught  up  the  umbrella,  giving  me  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  look.  It  was  perfectly  thrilling." 

"Which, — the  umbrella,  the  speech,  or  the 
look?"  asked  Psyche,  who  was  not  senti 
mental. 

"Ah,  you  have  no  soul  for  art  in  nature,  and 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  105 

nature  in  art,"  sighed  the  amber-tressed  Lar- 
kins.  "I  have,  for  I  feed  upon  a  glance,  a  tint, 
a  curve,  with  exquisite  delight.  Eubens  is 
adorable  (as  a  study)  ;  that  lustrous  eye,  that 
night  of  hair,  that  sumptuous  cheek,  are  perfect. 
He  only  needs  a  cloak,  lace  collar,  and  slouching 
hat  to  be  the  genuine  thing." 

"  This  isn't  the  genuine  thing  by  any  means. 
What  does  it  need?"  said  Psyche,  looking  with 
a  despondent  air  at  the  head  on  her  stand. 

Many  would  have  pronounced  it  a  clever 
thing ;  the  nose  was  strictly  Greek,  the  chin 
curved  upward  gracefully,  the  mouth  was  sweet 
ly  haughty,  the  brow  classically  smooth  and 
low,  and  the  breezy  hair  well  done.  But  some 
thing  was  wanting ;  Psyche  felt  that,  and  could 
have  taken  her  Yenus  by  the  dimpled  shoulders, 
and  given  her  a  hearty  shake,  if  that  would  have 
put  strength  and  spirit  into  the  lifeless  face. 

"Now     I   am    perfectly    satisfied    with    my 


106  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

Apollo,  though  you  all  insist  that  it  is  the  image 
of  Theodore  Smythe.  He  says  so  himself,  and 
assures  me  it  will  make  a  sensation  when  we 
exhibit,"  remarked  Miss  Larkins,  complacently 
caressing  the  ambrosial  locks  of  her  Smythified 
Phebus. 

"What  shall  you  do  if  it  don't?"  asked  Miss 
Cutter,  with  elegance. 

"I  shall  feel  that  I  have  mistaken  my  sphere, 
shall  drop  my  tools,  veil  my  bust,  and  cast  my 
self  into  the  arms  of  Nature,  since  Art  rejects 
me,"  replied  Miss  Larkins,  with  a  tragic  ges 
ture  and  an  expression  which  strongly  suggested 
that  in  her  eyes  Nature  meant  Theodore. 

"She  must  have  capacious  arms  if  she  is  to 
receive  all  Art's  rejected  admirers.  Shall  I  be 
one  of  them?" 

Psyche  put  the  question  to  herself  as  she 
turned  to  work,  but  somehow  ambitious  aspira 
tions  were  not  in  a  flourishing  condition  that 


107 

jiorning ;  her  heart  was  not  in  tune,  and  head 
and  hands  sympathized.  Nothing  went  well, 
for  certain  neglected  home-duties  had  dogged 
her  into  town,  and  now  worried  her  more  than 
dust,  or  heat,  or  the  ceaseless  clatter  of  tongues. 
Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry's  unmended  hose  per 
sisted  in  dancing  a  spectral  jig  before  her  mental 
eye,  mother's  querulous  complaints  spoilt  the 
song  she  hummed  to  cheer  herself,  and  little 
May's  wistful  face  put  the  goddess  of  beauty 
entirely  out  of  countenance. 

"  It's  no  use ;  I  can't  work  till  the  clay  is  wet 
again.  Where  is  Giovanni?"  she  asked,  throw 
ing  down  her  tools  with  a  petulant  gesture  and  a 
dejected  air. 

"He  is  probably  playing  truant  in  the  empty 
upper  rooms  as  usual.  I  can't  wait  for  him  any 
longer,  so  I'm  doing  his  work  myself,"  answered 
Miss  Dickenson,  who  was  tenderly  winding  a 
wet  bandage  round  her  Juno's  face,  one  side  of 


108  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

which  was  so  much  plumper  than  the  other  that 
it  looked  as  if  the  Queen  of  Olympus  was  being 
hydropathically  treated  for  a  severe  fit  of  ague. 

w  I'll  go  and  find  the  little  scamp  ;  a  run  will 
do  me  good ;  so  will  a  breath  of  air  and  a  view 
of  the  park  from  the  upper  windows." 

Dofiing  her  apron,  Psyche  strolled  away  up 
an  unfrequented  staircase  to  the  empty  apart 
ments,  which  seemed  to  be  too  high  even  for  the 
lovers  of  High  Art.  On  the  western  side  they 
were  shady  and  cool,  and,  leaning  from  one  of 
the  windows,  Psyche  watched  the  feathery  tree- 
tops  ruffled  by  the  balmy  wind,  that  brought 
spring  odors  from  the  hills,  lying  green  and 
sunny  far  away.  Silence  and  solitude  were  such 
pleasant  companions  that  the  girl  forgot  herself, 
till  a  shrill  whistle  disturbed  her  day-dreams, 
and  reminded  her  what  she  came  for.  Follow 
ing  the  sound  she  found  the  little  Italian  errand- 
boy  busily  uncovering  a  clay  model  which  stood 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  109 

in  the  middle  of  a  scantily  furnished  room  near 

by- 

"  He  is  not  here ;  come  and  look ;  it  is  greatly 
beautiful,"  cried  Giovanni,  beckoning  with  an 
air  of  importance. 

Psyche  did  look  and  speedily  forgot  both  her 
errand  and  herself.  It  was  the  figure  of  a  man, 
standing  erect,  and  looking  straight  before  him 
with  a  wonderfully  life-like  expression.  It  was 
neither  a  mythological  nor  a  historical  character, 
Psyche  thought,  and  was  glad  of  it,  being  tired 
to  death  of  gods  and  heroes.  She  soon  ceased 
to  wonder  what  it  was,  feeling  only  the  inde 
scribable  charm  of  something  higher  than 
beauty.  Small  as  her  knowledge  was,  she 
could  see  and  enjoy  the  power  visible  in  every 
part  of  it ;  the  accurate  anatomy  of  the  vigorous 
limbs,  the  grace  of  the  pose,  the  strength  and 
spirit  in  the  countenance,  clay  though  it  was. 
A  majestic  figure,  but  the  spell  lay  in  the  face, 


110 

which,  while  it  suggested  the  divine,  was  full  of 
human  truth  and  tenderness,  for  pain  and  pas 
sion  seemed  to  have  passed  over  it  and  a  humil 
ity  half-pathetic,  a  courage  half-heroic,  seemed 
to  have  been  born  from  some  great  loss  or  woe. 

How  long  she  stood  there  Psyche  did  not 
know.  Giovanni  went  away  unseen,  to  fill  his 
water-pail,  and  in  the  silence  she  just  stood  and 
looked.  Her  eyes  kindled,  her  color  rose,  de 
spondency  and  discontent  vanished,  and  her  soul 
was  in  her  face,  for  she  loved  beauty  passion 
ately,  and  all  that  was  best  and  truest  in  her  did 
honor  to  the  genius  of  the  unknown  worker. 

"If  I  could  do  a  thing  like  that  I'd  die 
happy ! "  she  exclaimed,  impetuously,  as  a  feel 
ing  of  despair  came  over  her  at  the  thought  of 
her  own  poor  attempts. 

"Who  did  it,  Giovanni?"  she  asked,  still 
looking  up  at  the  grand  face  with  unsatisfied 
eyes. 


Ill 

"Paul  Gage." 

It  was  not  the  boy's  voice,  and,  with  a  start, 
Psyche  turned  to  see  her  Michael  Angelo,  stand 
ing  in  the  door-way  attentively  observing  her. 
Being  too  full  of  artless  admiration  to  think  of 
herself  just  yet,  she  neither  blushed  nor  apolo 
gized,  but  looked  straight  at  him,  saying 
heartily :  — 

"You  have  done  a  wonderful  piece  of  work, 
and  I  envy  you  more  than  I  can  tell." 

The  enthusiasm  in  her  face,  the  frankness  of 
her  manner,  seemed  to  please  him,  for  there  was 
no  affectation  about  either.  He  gave  her  a 
keen,  kind  glance  out  of  the  "fine  gray  eyes," 
a  little  bow,  and  a  grateful  smile,  saying 
quietly :  — 

"  Then  my  Adam  is  not  a  failure  in  spite  of 
his  fall?" 

Psyche  turned  from  the  sculptor  to  his  model 
with  increased  admiration  in  her  face,  and 


112 

earnestness  in  her  voice,  as  she  exclaimed,  de 
lighted  :  — 

"  Adam  !  I  might  have  known  it  was  he.  O 
sir,  you  have  indeed  succeeded,  for  you  have 
given  that  figure  the  power  and  pathos  of  the 
first  man  who  sinned  and  suffered,  and  began 
again." 

"  Then  I  am  satisfied."  That  was  all  he  said, 
but  the  look  he  gave  his  work  was  a  very 
eloquent  one,  for  it  betrayed  that  he  had  paid 
the  price  of  success  in  patience  and  privation, 
labor  and  hope. 

"What  can  one  do  to  learn  your  secret?" 
asked  the  girl  wistfully,  for  there  was  nothing  in 
the  man's  manner  to  disturb  her  self-forgetful 
mood,  but  much  to  foster  it,  because  to  the 
solitary  worker  this  confiding  guest  was  as  wel 
come  as  the  doves  who  often  hopped  in  at  his 
window. 

"Work  and  wait,   and  meantime  feed  heart, 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  113 

soul,  and  imagination  with  the  best  food  one  can 
get,"  he  answered  slowly,  finding  it  impossible 
to  give  a  receipt  for  genius. 

"  I  can  work  and  wait  a  long  time  to  gain  my 
end ;  but  I  don't  know  where  to  find  the  food 
you  speak  of,"  she  answered,  looking  at  him  like 
a  hungry  child 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  but  each  needs  differ 
ent  fare,  and  each  must  look  for  it  in  different 
places." 

The  kindly  tone  and  the  sympathizing  look, 
as  well  as  the  lines  in  his  forehead,  and  a  few 
gray  hairs  among  the  brown,  gave  Psyche  cour 
age  to  say  more. 

"  I  love  beauty  so  much  that  I  not  only  want 
to  possess  it  myself,  but  to  gain  the  power  of 
seeing  it  in  all  things,  and  the  art  of  reproducing 
it  with  truth.  I  have  tried  very  hard  to  do  it, 
but  something  is  wanting;  and  in  spite  of  my 
intense  desire  I  never  get  on." 


114  PSYCHE'S  AKT. 

As  she  spoke  the  girl's  e}^es  filled  and  fell  in 
spite  of  herself,  and  turning  a  little  with  sudden 
shamefacedness  she  saw,  lying  on  the  table  be 
side  her  among  other  scraps  in  manuscript  and 
print,  the  well-known  lines  :  — 

"  I  slept,  and  dreamed  that  life  was  beauty; 
I  woke,  and  found  that  life  was  duty. 
Was  thy  dream  then  a  shadowy  lie  ? 
Toil  on,  sad  heart,  courageously, 
And  thou  shalt  find  thy  dream  to  be 
A  noonday  light  and  truth  to  thee." 

She  knew  them  at  a  glance,  had  read  them 
many  times,  but  now  they  came  home  to  her 
with  sudden  force,  and,  seeing  that  his  eye 
had  followed  hers,  she  said  in  her  impulsive 
fashion :  — 

"  Is  doing  one's  duty  a  good  way  to  feed  heart, 
soul,  and  imagination?  " 

As  if  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  what  was 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  115 

going  on  in  her  mind,  Paul  answered  emphati 
cally  :  — 

"Excellent;  for  if  one  is  good,  one  is  happy, 
and  if  happy,  one  can  work  well.  Moulding 
character  is  the  highest  sort  of  sculpture,  and  all 
of  us  should  learn  that  art  before  we  touch  clay 
or  marble." 

He  spoke  with  the  energy  of  a  man  who  be 
lieved  what  he  said,  and  did  his  best  to  be 
worthy  of  the  rich  gift  bestowed  upon  him. 
The  sight  of  her  violets  in  a  glass  of  water,  and 
Giovanni  staring  at  her  with  round  eyes,  sud 
denly  recalled  Psyche  to  a  sense  of  the  proprie 
ties  which  she  had  been  innocently  outraging  for 
the  last  ten  minutes.  A  sort  of  panic  seized 
her ;  she  blushed  deeply,  retreated  precipitately 
to  the  door,  and  vanished  murmuring  thanks 
and  apologies  as  she  went. 

"  Did  you  find  him  ?    I  thought  you  had  for- 


116  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

gotten,"  said  Miss  Dickenson,  now  hard  at 
work. 

"Yes,  I  found  him.  No,  I  shall  not  forget," 
returned  Psyche,  thinking  of  Gage,  not  Gio 
vanni. 

She  stood  before  her  work  eying  it  intently 
for  several  minutes;  then,  with  an  expression 
of  great  contempt  for  the  whole  thing,  she  sud 
denly  tilted  her  cherished  Venus  on  to  the  floor, 
gave  the  classical  face  a  finishing  crunch,  and 
put  on  her  hat  in  a  decisive  manner,  saying 
briefly  to  the  dismayed  damsels  :  — 

"  Good-by,  girls ;  I  shan't  come  any  more,  for 
I'm  going  to  work  at  home  hereafter." 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  117 


II. 

THE  prospect  of  pursuing  artistic  studies  at 
home  was  not  brilliant,  as  one  may  imagine 
when  I  mention  that  Psyche's  father  was  a  pain 
fully  prosaic  man,  wrapt  in  flannel,  so  to  speak ; 
for  his  woollen  mills  left  him  no  time  for  any 
thing  but  sleep,  food,  and  newspapers.  Mrs. 
Dean  was  one  of  those  exasperating  women  who 
pervade  their  mansions  like  a  domestic  steam- 
engine  one  week  and  take  to  their  sofas  the 
next,  absorbed  by  fidgets  and  foot-stoves, 
shawls  and  lamentations.  There  were  three 
riotous  and  robust  young  brothers,  whom  it  is 
unnecessary  to  describe  except  by  stating  that 
they  were  boys  in  the  broadest  sense  of  that  de 
lightful  word.  There  was  a  feeble  little  sister, 
whose  patient,  suffering  face  demanded  constant 


118  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

love  and  care  to  mitigate  the  weariness  of  a  life 
of  pain.  And  last,  but  not  least  by  any  means, 
there  were  two  Irish  ladies,  who,  with  the  best 
intentions  imaginable,  produced  a  universal  state 
of  topsy-turvyness  when  left  to  themselves  for  a 
moment. 

But  being  very  much  in  earnest  about  doing 
her  duty,  not  because  it  was  her  duty,  but 
as  a  means  toward  an  end,  Psyche  fell  to  work 
with  a  will,  hoping  to  serve  both  masters  at 
once.  So  she  might  have  done,  perhaps,  if  flesh 
and  blood  had  been  as  plastic  as  clay,  but  the 
live  models  were  so  exacting  in  their  demands 
upon  her  time  and  strength,  that  the  poor  stat 
ues  went  to  the  wall.  Sculpture  and  sewing, 
calls  and  crayons,  Ruskin  and  receipt-books, 
didn't  work  well  together,  and  poor  Psyche 
found  duties  and  desires  desperately  antagonis 
tic.  Take  a  day  as  a  sample. 

w  The  washing  and  ironing  is  well  over,  thank 


PSYCHE'S  AKT.  119 

goodness,  ma  used  up  and  quiet,  the  boys  out 
of  the  way,  and  May  comfortable,  so  I'll  indulge 
myself  in  a  blissful  day  after  my  own  heart," 
Psyche  said,  as  she  shut  herself  into  her  little 
studio,  and  prepared  to  enjoy  a  few  hours  of 
hard  study  and  happy  day-dreams. 

With  a  book  on  her  lap,  and  her  own  round, 
white  arm  going  through  all  manner  of  queer 
evolutions,  she  was  placidly  repeating,  "Del 
toids,  Biceps,  Triceps,  Pronator,  Supinator, 
Palmanis,  Flexor  carpi  ulnaris — " 

"Here's  Flexis  what-you-call-ums  for  you," 
interrupted  a  voice,  which  began  in  a  shrill  fal 
setto  and  ended  in  a  gruff  bass,  as  a  flushed, 
dusty,  long-legged  boy  burst  in,  with  a  bleeding 
hand  obligingly  extended  for  inspection. 

"  Mercy  on  us,  Harry  ;  what  have  you  done  to 
yourself  now  ?  Split  your  fingers  with  a  cricket- 
ball  again?"  cried  Psyche,  as  her  arms  went  up 
and  her  book  went  down. 


120  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

"No,  sir.  I  just  pitched  into  one  of  the  fel 
lows  because  he  got  mad  and  said  pa  was  going 
to  fail." 

"O  Harry,  is  he?" 

"Course  he  isn't!  It's  hard  times  for  every 
one,  but  pa  will  pull  through  like  a  brick.  No 
use  to  try  and  explain  it  all ;  girls  can't  under 
stand  business  ;  so  you  just  tie  me  up,  and  don't 
bother,"  was  the  characteristic  reply  of  the 
young  man,  who,  being  three  years  her  junior, 
of  course  treated  the  weaker  vessel  with  lordly 
condescension. 

"  What  a  dreadful  wound  !  I  hope  nothing  is 
broken,  for  I  haven't  studied  the  hand  much  yet, 
and  may  do  mischief  doing  it  up,"  said  Psyche, 
examining  the  great  grimy  paw  with  tender 
solicitude. 

"Much  good  your  biceps,  and  deltoids,  and 
things  do  you,  if  you  can't  right  up  a  little  cut 
like  that,"  squeaked  the  ungrateful  hero. 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  121 

"I'm  not  going  to  be  a  surgeon,  thank 
Heaven;  I  intend  to  make  perfect  hands  and 
arms,  not  mend  damaged  ones,"  retorted 
Psyche,  in  a  dignified  tone,  somewhat  marred 
by  a  great  piece  of  court-plaster  on  her  tongue. 

"  I  should  say  a  surgeon  could  improve  that 
perfect  thing,  if  he  didn't  die  a-laughing  before 
he  began,"  growled  Harry,  pointing  with  a 
scornful  grin  at  a  clay  arm  humpy  with  muscles 
all  carefully  developed  in  the  wrong  places. 

"Don't  hoot,  Hal,  for  you  don't  know  any 
thing  about  it.  Wait  a  few  years  and  see  if 
you're  not  proud  of  me." 

"  Sculp  away  then,  do  your  prettiest,  and  I'll 
hurrah  for  your  mud-pies  like  a  good  one;" 
with  which  cheering  promise  the  youth  de 
parted,  having  effectually  disturbed  his  sister's 
peaceful  mood. 

Anxious  thoughts  of  her  father  rendered 
w  biceps,  deltoids,  and  things "  uninteresting, 


122  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

and,  hoping  to  compose  her  mind,  she  took  up 
The  Old  Painters  and  went  on  with  the  story 
of  Claude  Lorraine.  She  had  just  reached  the 
tender  scene  where  :  — 

"Calista  gazed  with  enthusiasm,  while  she 
looked  like  a  being  of  heaven  rather  than  earth. 
'  My  friend,'  she  cried,  '  I  read  in  thy  picture 
thy  immortality  ! '  As  she  spoke,  her  head  sunk 
upon  his  bosom,  and  it  was  several  moments  be 
fore  Claude  perceived  that  he  supported  a  life 
less  form." 

"How  sweet !  "  said  Psyche,  with  a  romantic 
sigh. 

"Faith,  and  swate  it  is  thin!"  echoed  Katy, 
whose  red  head  had  just  appeared  round  the 
half-opened  door.  "  It's  gingybread  I'm  making 
the  day,  miss,  and  will  I  be  puttin'  purlash  or 
sallyrathis  into  it,  if  ye  plase  ? " 

"Purlash  by  all  means,"  returned  the  girl, 
keeping  her  countenance,  fearing  to  enrage  Katy 


123 

by  a  laugh ;  for  the  angry  passions  of  the  red- 
haired  one  rose  more  quickly  than  her  bread. 
As  she  departed  with  alacrity  to  add  a  spoonful 
of  starch  and  a  pinch  of  whiting  to  her  cake, 
Psyche,  feeling  better  for  her  story  and  her 
smile,  put  on  her  bib  and  paper  cap  and  fell  to 
work  on  the  deformed  arm.  An  hour  of  bliss, 
then  came  a  ring  at  the  door-bell,  followed  by 
Biddy  to  announce  callers,  and  add  that  as 
"  the  mistress  was  in  her  bed,  miss  must  go  and 
take  care  of  'em."  Whereat  "miss"  cast  down 
her  tools  in  despair,  threw  her  cap  one  way,  her 
bib  another,  and  went  in  to  her  guests  with  any 
thing  but  a  rapturous  welcome. 

Dinner  being  accomplished  after  much  rushing 
up  and  down  stairs  with  trays  and  messages  for 
Mrs.  Dean,  Psyche  fled  again  to  her  studio, 
ordering  no  one  to  approach  under  pain  of  a 
scolding.  All  went  well  till,  going  in  search  of 


124  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

something,  she  found  her  little  sister  sitting  on 
the  floor  with  her  cheek  against  the  studio  door. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  be  naughty,  Sy,  but  ma's 
asleep,  and  the  boys  all  gone,  so  I  just  came  to 
be  near  you;  it's  so  lonely  everywhere,"  she 
said,  apologetically,  as  she  lifted  up  the  heavy 
head  that  always"  ached. 

"The  boys  are  very  thoughtless.  Come  in 
and  stay  with  me ;  you  are  such  a  mouse  you 
won't  disturb  me.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  play 
be  a  model,  and  let  me  draw  your  arm,  and  tell 
you  all  about  the  nice  little  bones  and  muscles?" 
asked  Psyche,  who  had  the  fever  very  strong 
upon  her  just  then. 

May  didn't  look  as  if  the  proposed  amusement 
overwhelmed  her  with  delight,  but  meekly  con 
sented  to  be  perched  upon  a  high  stool  with  one 
arm  propped  up  by  a  dropsical  plaster  cherub, 
while  Psyche  drew  busily,  feeling  that  duty  and 
pleasure  were  being  delightfully  combined. 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  125 

"Can't  you  hold  your  arm  still,  child?  It 
shakes  so  I  can't  get  it  right,"  she  said,  rather 
impatiently. 

"No,  it  will  tremble,  'cause  it's  weak.  I  try 
bard,  Sy,  but  there  don't  seem  to  be  any  strong- 
ness  in  me  lately." 

"  That's  better ;  keep  it  so  a  few  minutes  and 
I'll  be  done,"  cried  the  artist,  forgetting  that  a 
few  minutes  may  seem  ages. 

"  My  arm  is  so  thin  you  can  see  the  bunches 
nicely,  —  can't  you?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

Psyche  glanced  up  at  the  wasted  limb  and 
when  she  drew  again  there  was  a  blur  before  her 
eyes  for  a  minute. 

"  I  wish  I  was  as  fat  as  this  white  boy ;  but  I 
get  thinner  every  day  somehow,  and  pretty  soon 
there  won't  be  any  of  me  left  but  my  little 
bones,"  said  the  child,  looking  at  the  winged 
cherub  with  sorrowful  envy. 


126  PSYCHE'S 

"Don't,  my  darling;  don't  say  that,"  cried 
Psyche,  dropping  her  work  with  a  sudden  pang 
at  her  heart.  "  I'm  a  sinful,  selfish  girl  to  keep 
you  here ;  you're  weak  for  want  of  air ;  come 
out  and  see  the  chickens,  and  pick  dandelions, 
and  have  a  good 'romp  with  the  boys." 

The  weak  arms  were  strong  enough  to  clasp 
Psyche's  neck,  and  the  tired  face  brightened 
beautifully  as  the  child  exclaimed,  with  grateful 
delight :  — 

"  Oh,  I'd  like  it  very  much  !  I  wanted  to  go 
dreadfully ;  but  everybody  is  so  busy  all  the 
time.  I  don't  want  to  play,  Sy ;  but  just  to  lie 
on  the  grass  with  my  head  in  your  lap  while  you 
tell  stories  and  draw  me  pretty  things  as  you 
used  to." 

The  studio  was  deserted  all  that  afternoon, 
for  Psyche  sat  in  the  orchard  drawing  squirrels 
on  the  wall,  pert  robbins  hopping  by,  buttercups 
and  mosses,  elves  and  angels ;  while  May  lay 


127 

contentedly  enjoying  sun  and  air,  sisterly  care, 
and  the  "pretty  things"  she  loved  so  well. 
Psyche  did  not  find  the  task  a  hard  one  ;  for  this 
time  her  heart  was  in  it,  and  if  she  needed  any 
reward  she  surely  found  it ;  for  the  little  face  on 
her  knee  lost  its  weary  look,  and  the  peace  and 
beauty  of  nature  soothed  her  own  troubled 
spirit,  cheered  her  heart,  and  did  her  more  good 
than  hours  of  solitary  study. 

Finding,  much  to  her  own  surprise,  that  her 
fancy  was  teeming  with  lovely  conceits,  she  did 
hope  for  a  quiet  evening.  But  ma  wanted  a 
dish  of  gossip,  pa  must  have  his  papers  read  to 
him,  the  boys  had  lessons  and  rips  and  griev 
ances  to  be  attended  to,  May's  lullaby  could  not 
be  forgotten,  and  the  maids  had  to  be  looked 
after,  lest  burly  "  cousins  "  should  be  hidden  in 
the  boiler,  or  lucifer  matches  among  the  shav 
ings.  So  Psyche's  day  ended,  leaving  her  very 


128  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

tired,  rather  discouraged,  and  almost  heart-sick 
with  the  shadow  of  a  coming  sorrow. 

All  summer  she  did  her  best,  but  accom 
plished  very  little  as  she  thought ;  yet  this  was 
the  teaching  she  most  needed,  and  in  time  she 
came  to  see  it.  In  the  autumn  May  died,  whis 
pering  with  her  arms  about  her  sister's  neck  :  — 

"You  make  me  so  happy,  Sy,  I  wouldn't 
mind  the  pain  if  I  could  stay  a  little  longer. 
But  if  I  can't,  good-by,  dear,  good-by." 

Her  last  look  and  word  and  kiss  were  all  for 
Psyche,  who  felt  then  with  grateful  tears  that 
her  summer  had  not  been  wasted ;  for  the  smile 
upon  the  little  dead  face  was  more  to  her  than 
any  marble  perfection  her  hands  could  have 
carved. 

In  the  solemn  pause  which  death  makes  in 
every  family,  Psyche  said,  with  the  sweet  self- 
forgetfulness  of  a  strong  yet  tender  nature  :  — 

"  I  must  not  think  of  myself,  but  try  to  com- 


129 

fort  them ;  "  and  with  this  resolution  she  gave 
herself  heart  and  soul  to  duty,  never  thinking 
of  reward. 

A  busy,  anxious,  humdrum  winter,  for,  as 
Harry  said,  "  it  was  hard  times  for  every  one." 
Mr.  Dean  grew  gray  with  the  weight  of  business 
cares  about  which  he  never  spoke ;  Mrs.  Dean, 
laboring  under  the  delusion  that  an  invalid  was 
a  necessary  appendage  to  the  family,  installed 
herself  in  the  place  the  child's  death  left  vacant, 
and  the  boys  needed  much  comforting,  for  the 
poor  lads  never  knew  how  much  they  loved  "  the 
baby"  till  the  little  chair  stood  empty.  All 
turned  to  Sy  for  help  and  consolation,  and  her 
strength  seemed  to  increase  with  the  demand 
upon  it.  Patience  and  cheerfulness,  courage 
and  skill,  came  at  her  call  like  good  fairies  who 
had  bided  their  time.  House-keeping  ceased  to 
be  hateful,  and  peace  reigned  in  parlor  and 
kitchen,  while  Mrs.  Dean,  shrouded  in  shawls, 


130  PSYCHE'S  AUT. 

read  Hahnemann's  Lesser  Writings  on  her  sofa. 
Mr.  Dean  sometimes  forgot  his  mills  when  a 
bright  face  came  to  meet  him,  a  gentle  hand 
smoothed  the  wrinkles  out  of  his  anxious  fore 
head,  and  a  daughterly  heart  sympathized  with 
all  his  cares.  The  boys  found  home  very  pleas 
ant  with  Sy  always  there  ready  to  "  lend  a 
hand,"  whether  it  was  to  make  fancy  ties,  help 
conjugate  "a  confounded  verb,"  pull  candy,  or 
sing  sweetly  in  the  twilight  when  all  thought  of 
little  May  and  grew  quiet. 

The  studio  door  remained  locked  till  her 
brothers  begged  Psyche  to  open  it  and  make  a 
bust  of  the  child.  A  flush  of  joy  swept  over 
her  face  at  the  request,  and  her  patient  eyes 
grew  bright  and  eager,  as  a  thirsty  traveller's 
might  at  the  sight  or  sound  of  water.  Then  it 
faded  as  she  shook  her  head,  saying,  with  a 
regretful  sigh,  "I'm  afraid  I've  lost  the  little 
skill  I  ever  had." 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  131 

But  she  tried,  and  with  great  wonder  and  de 
light  discovered  that  she  could  work  as  she  had 
never  done  before.  She  thought  the  newly 
found  power  lay  in  her  longing  to  see  the  little 
face  again ;  for  it  grew  like  magic  under  her 
loving  hands,  while  every  tender  memory,  sweet 
thought,  and  devout  hope  she  had  ever  cher 
ished,  seemed  to  lend  their  aid.  But  when  it 
was  done  and  welcomed  with  tears  and  smiles, 
and  praise  more  precious  than  any  the  world 
could  give,  then  Psyche  said  within  herself  like 
one  who  saw  light  at  last :  — 

"  He  was  right ;  doing  one's  duty  is  the  way 
to  feed  heart,  soul,  and  imagination ;  for  if  one 
is  good,  one  is  happy,  and  if  happy,  one  can 
work  well." 


132  PSYCHE'S  ART. 


III. 

w  SHE  broke  her  head,  and  went  home  to  come 
no  more,"  was  Giovanni's  somewhat  startling 
answer  when  Paul  asked  about  Psyche,  finding 
that  he  no  longer  met  her  on  the  stairs  or  in  the 
halls.  He  understood  what  the  boy  meant,  and 
with  an  approving  nod  turned  to  his  work  again, 
saying,  "  I  like  that !  If  there  is  any  power  in 
her,  she  has  taken  the  right  way  to  find  it  out,  I 
suspect." 

How  she  prospered  he  never  asked ;  for, 
though  he  met  her  more  than  once  that  year,  the 
interviews  were  brief  ones  in  street,  concert- 
room,  or  picture-gallery,  and  she  carefully 
avoided  speaking  of  herself.  ~But,  possessing 
the  gifted  eyes  which  can  look  below  the  surface 
of  things,  he  detected  in  the  girl's  face  some- 


133 

thing  better  than  beauty,  though  each  time  he 
saw  it,  it  looked  older  and  more  thoughtful, 
often  anxious  and  sad. 

"  She  is  getting  on,"  he  said  to  himself  with  a 
cordial  satisfaction  which  gave  his  manner  a 
friendliness  as  grateful  to  Psyche  as  his  wise 
reticence. 

Adam  was  finished  at  last,  proved  a  genuine 
success,  and  Paul  heartily  enjoyed  the  well- 
earned  reward  for  years  of  honest  work.  One 
blithe  May  morning,  he  slipped  early  into  the 
art-gallery,  where  the  statue  now  stood,  to  look 
at  his  creation  with  paternal  pride.  He  was 
quite  alone  with  the  stately  figure  that  shone 
white  against  the  purple  draperies  and  seemed 
to  offer  him  a  voiceless  welcome  from  its  marble 
lips.  He  gave  it  one  loving  look,  and  then  for 
got  it,  for  at  the  feet  of  his  Adam  lay  a  handful 
of  wild  violets,  with  the  dew  still  on  them.  A 
sudden  smile  broke  over  his  face  as  he  took 


134  PSYCHE'S  AKT. 

them  up,  with  the  thought,  w  She  has  been  here 
and  found  my  work  good." 

For  several  moments  he  stood  thoughtfully 
turning  the  flowers  to  and  fro  in  his  hands ; 
then,  as  if  deciding  some  question  within  him 
self,  he  said,  still  smiling:  — 

"  It  is  just  a  year  since  she  went  home ;  she 
must  have  accomplished  something  in  that  time  ; 
I'll  take  the  violets  as  a  sign  that  I  may  go  and 
ask  her  what." 

He  knew  she  lived  just  out  of  the  city,  be 
tween  the  river  and  the  mills,  and  as  he  left  the 
streets  behind  him,  he  found  more  violets  bloom 
ing  all  along  the  way  like  flowery  guides  to  lead 
him  right.  Greener  grew  the  road,  balmier 
blew  the  wind,  and  blither  sang  the  birds,  as  he 
went  on  enjoying  his  holiday  wifh  the  zest  of  a. 
boy,  until  he  reached  a  most  attractive  little 
path  winding  away  across  the  fields.  The  gate 
swung  invitingly  open,  and  all  the  ground  before 


135 

it  was  blue  with  violets.  Still  following  their 
guidance  he  took  the  narrow  path,  till,  coming 
to  a  mossy  Stone  beside  a  brook,  he  sat  down  to 
listen  to  the  blackbirds  singing  deliciously  in  the 
willows  overhead.  Close  by  the  stone,  half 
hidden  in  the  grass  lay  a  little  book,  and,  taking 
it  up,  he  found  it  was  a  pocket-diary.  No  name 
appeared  on  the  fly-leaf,  and,  turning  the  pages 
to  find  some  clue  to  its  owner,  he  read  here  and 
there  enough  to  give  him  glimpses  into  an  inno 
cent  and  earnest  heart  which  seemed  to  be  learn 
ing  some  hard  lesson  patiently.  Only  near  the 
end  did  he  find  the  clue  in  words  of  his  own, 
spoken  long  ago,  and  a  name.  Then,  though 
longing  intensely  to  know  more,  he  shut  the 
little  book  and  went  on,  showing  by  his  altered 
face  that  the  simple  record  of  a  girl's  life  had 
touched  him  deeply. 

Soon   an  old  house  appeared  nestling  to  the 


136  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

hillside  with  the  river  shining  in  the  low  green 
meadows  just  before  it. 

"She  lives  there,"  he  said,  with  as  much  cer 
tainty  as  if  the  pansies  by  the  door-stone  spelt 
her  name,  and,  knocking,  he  asked  for  Psyche. 

"  She's  gone  to  town,  but  I  expect  her  home 

every  minute."     "Ask  the  gentleman  to  walk  in 

\ 

and  wait,  Katy,"  cried  a  voice  from  above, 
where  the  whisk  of  skirts  was  followed  by  the 
appearance  of  an  inquiring  eye  over  the  banis 
ters. 

The  gentleman  did  walk  in,  and  while  he 
waited  looked  about  him.  The  room,  though 
very  simply  furnished,  had  a  good  deal  of 
beauty  in  it,  for  the  pictures  were  few  and  well 
chosen,  the  books  such  as  never  grow  old,  the 
music  lying  on  the  well-worn  piano  of  the  sort 
which  is  never  out  of  fashion,  and  standing 
somewhat  apart  was  one  small  statue  in  a  recess 
full  of  flowers.  Lovely  in  its  simple  grace  and 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  137 

truth  was  the  figure  of  a  child  looking  upward 
as  if  watching  the  airy  flight  of  some  butterfly 
which  had  evidently  escaped  from  the  chrysalis 
still  lying  in  the  little  hand. 

Paul  was  looking  at  it  with  approving  eyes 
when  Mrs.  Dean  appeared  with  his  card  in  her 
hand,  three  shawls  on  her  shoulders,  and  in  her 
face  a  somewhat  startled  expression,  as  if  she 
expected  some  novel  demonstration  from  the 
man  whose  genius  her  daughter  so  much  ad 
mired. 

"I  hope  Miss  Psyche  is  well,"  began  Patil, 
with  great  discrimination  if  not  originality. 

The  delightfully  commonplace  remark  tran 
quillized  Mrs.  Dean  at  once,  and,  taking  off  the 
upper  shawl  with  a  fussy  gesture,  she  settled 
herself  for  a  chat. 

"Yes,  thank  Heaven,  Sy  is  well.  I  don't 
know  what  would  become  of  us  if  she  wasn't. 
It  has  been  a  hard  and  sorrowful  year  for  us 


138  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

with  Mr.  Dean's  business  embarrassments,  my 
feeble  health,  and  May's  death.  I  don't  know 
that  you  were  aware  of  our  loss,  sir ;  "  and  un 
affected  maternal  grief  gave  sudden  dignity  to 
the  faded,  fretful  face  of  the  speaker. 

Paul  murmured  his  regrets,  understanding 
better  now  the  pathetic  words  on  a  certain  tear- 
stained  page  of  the  little  book  still  in  his  pocket. 

"  Poor  dear,  she  suffered  everything,  and  it 
came  very  hard  upon  Sy,  for  the  child 'wasn't 
happy  with  any  one  else,  and  almost  lived  in  her 
arms,"  continued  Mrs.  Dean,  dropping  the  sec 
ond  shawl  to  get  her  handkerchief. 

"  Miss  Psyche  has  not  had  much  time  for  art- 
studies  this  year,  I  suppose?"  said  Paul,  hoping 
to  arrest  the  shower  natural  as  it  was. 

"  How  could  she,  with  two  invalids,  the  house 
keeping,  pa  and  the  boys  to  attend  to?  No,  she 
gave  that  up  last  spring,  and  though  it  was  a 
great  disappointment  to  her  at  the  time,  she  has 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  139 

got  over  it  now,  and  is  happier  than  she  ever 
was  before,  I  think,"  added  her  mother,  remem 
bering  as  she  spoke  that  Psyche  even  now  went 
about  the  house  sometimes  pale  and  silent,  with 
a  hungry  look  in  her  eyes. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  though  a  little  shadow 
passed  over  his  face  as  Paul  spoke,  for  he  was 
too  true  an  artist  to  believe  that  any  work  could 
be  as  happy  as  that  which  he  loved  and  lived 
for.  "  I  thought  there  was  much  promise  in 
Miss  Psyche,  and  I  sincerely  believe  that  time 
will  prove  me  a  true  prophet,"  he  said  with  min 
gled  regret  and  hope  in  his  voice  as  he  glanced 
about  the  room,  which  betrayed  the  tastes  still 
cherished  by  the  girl. 

w  I'm  afraid  ambition  isn't  good  for  women ;  I 
mean  the  sort  that  makes  'em  known  by  coming 
before  the  public  in  any  way.  But  Sy  deserves 
some  reward,  I'm  sure,  and  I  know  she'll  have 
it,  for  a  better  daughter  never  lived." 


140 

Here  the  third  shawl  was  cast  off,  as  if  the 
thought  of  Psyche,  or  the  presence  of  a  genial 
guest,  had  touched  Mrs.  Dean's  chilly  nature 
with  a  comfortable  warmth. 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 
avalanche  of  boys,  which  came  tumbling  down 
the  front  stairs  as  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry 
shouted  in  a  sort  of  chorus :  — 

"  Sy,  my  balloon  has  got  away ;  lend  us  a 
hand  at  catching  him  I " 

M  Sy,  I  want  a  lot  of  paste  made,  right  off." 

"Sy,  I've  split  my  jacket  down  the  back; 
come  sew  me  up,  there's  a  dear!" 

On  beholding  a  stranger  the  young  gentlemen 
suddenly  lost  their  voices,  found  their  manners, 
and  with  nods  and  grins  took  themselves  away 
as  quietly  as  could  be  expected  of  six  clumping 
boots  and  an  unlimited  quantity  of  animal  spirits 
in  a  high  state  of  effervescence.  As  they  trooped 
off  an  unmistakable  odor  of  burnt  milk  pervaded 


PSYCHE'S  AKT.  141 

the  air,  and  the  crash  of  china,  followed  by  an 
Irish  wail,  caused  Mrs.  Dean  to  clap  on  her 
three  shawls  again  and  excuse  herself  in  visible 
trepidation. 

Paul  laughed  quietly  to  himself,  then  turned 
sober  and  said,  "Poor  Psyche!"  with  a  sympa 
thetic  sigh.  He  roamed  about  the  room  impa 
tiently  till  the  sound  of  voices  drew  him  to  the 
window  to  behold  the  girl  coming  up  the  walk 
with  her  clumsy  old  father  leaning  on  one  arm, 
the  other  loaded  with  baskets  and  bundles,  and 
her  hands  occupied  by  a  remarkably  ugly  turtle. 

"  Here  we  are  ! "  cried  a  cheery  voice,  as  they 
entered  without  observing  the  new-comer. 
"I've  done  all  my  errands  and  had  a  lovely 
time.  There  is  Tom's  gunpowder,  Dick's  fish 
hooks,  and  one  of  Professor  Gazzy's  famous  tur 
tles  for  Harry.  Here  are  your  bundles,  mother 
dear,  and,  best  of  all,  here's  pa,  home  in  time 


142  PSYCHE'S  AIIT. 

for  a  good  rest  before  dinner.  I  went  to  the 
mill  and  got  him." 

Psyche  spoke  as  if  she  had  brought  a  treas 
ure  :  and  so  she  had,  for  though  Mr.  Dean's  face 
usually  was  about  as  expressive  as  the  turtle's, 
it  woke  and  warmed  with  the  affection  which  his 
daughter  had  fostered  till  no  amount  of  flannel 
could  extinguish  it.  His  big  hand  patted  her 
cheek  very  gently  as  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
fatherly  love  and  pride  :  — 

"My  little  Sy  never  forgets  old  pa,  does 
she?" 

"  Good  gracious  me,  my  dear,  there's  such  a 
mess  in  the  kitchen  !  Katy's  burnt  up  the  pud 
ding,  put  castor-oil  instead  of  olive  in  the  salad, 
smashed  the  best  meat-dish,  and  here's  Mr. 
Gage  come  to  dinner,"  cried  Mrs.  Dean  in 
accents  of  despair  as  she  tied  up  her  head  in  a 
fourth  shawl. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad ;  I'll  go  in  and  see  him  a  few 


U3 

minutes,  and  then  I'll  come  and  attend  to  every 
thing  ;  so  don't  worry,  mother." 

"How  did  you  find  me  out?"  asked  Psyche 
as  she  shook  hands  with  her  guest  and  stood 
looking  up  at  him  with  all  the  old  confiding 
frankness  in  her  face  and  manner. 

"The  violets  showed  me  the  way." 

She  glanced  at  the  posy  in  his  button-hole  and 
smiled. 

"Yes,  I  gave  them  to  Adam,  but  I  didn't 
think  you  would  guess.  I  enjoyed  your  work 
for  an  hour  to-day,  and  I  have  no  words  strong 
enough  to  express  my  admiration." 

"There  is  no  need  of  any.  Tell  me  aboul 
yourself;  what  have  you  been  doing  all  thk 
year?"  he  asked,  watching  with  genuine  satis 
faction  the  serene  and  sunny  face  before  him, 
for  discontent,  anxiety,  and  sadness  were  no 
longer  visible  there. 

"  I've  been  working  and  waiting,"  she  began. 


144  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

w  And  succeeding,  if  I  may  believe  what  I  see 
and  hear  and  read,"  he  said  with  an  expressive 
little  wave  of  the  book  as  he  laid  it  down  before 
her. 

w  My  diary !  I  didn't  know  I  had  lost  it. 
Where  did  you  find  it?" 

"  By  the  brook  where  I  stopped  to  rest.  The 
moment  I  saw  your  name  I  shut  it  up.  Forgive 
me,  but  I  can't  ask  pardon  for  reading  a  few 
pages  of  that  little  gospel  of  patience,  love,  and 
self-denial." 

She  gave  him  a  reproachful  look  and  hurried 
the  telltale  book  out  of  sight  as  she  said,  with  a 
momentary  shadow  on  her  face  :  — 

w  It  has  been  a  hard  task ;  but  I  think  I  have 
learned  it,  and  am  just  beginning  to  find  that  my 
dream  is  *  a  noonday  light  and  truth,'  to  me." 

"  Then  you  do  not  relinquish  your  hopes  and 
lay  down  your  tools?"  he  asked  with  some 
eagerness. 


PSYCHE  S   ART.  145 

"  Never !  I  thought  at  first  that  I  could  not 
serve  two  masters,  but  in  trying  to  be  faithful  to 
one  I  find  I  am  nearer  and  dearer  to  the  other. 
My  cares  and  duties  are  growing  lighter  every 
day  (or  I  have  learned  to  bear  them  better), 
and  when  my  leisure  does  come  I  shall  know 
how  to  use  it,  for  my  head  is  full  of  ambitious 
plans,  and  I  feel  that  I  can  do  something  now." 

All  the  old  enthusiasm  shone  in  her  eyes,  and 
a  sense  of  power  betrayed  itself  in  voice  and 
gesture  as  she  spoke. 

"I  believe  it,"  he  said,  heartily.  "You  have 
learned  the  secret,  as  that  proves." 

Psyche  looked  at  the  childish  image  as  he 
pointed  to  it,  and  into  her  face  there  came  a 
motherly  expression  that  made  it  very  sweet. 

"  That  little  sister  was  so  dear  to  me  I  could 
not  fail  to  make  her  lovely,  for  I  put  my  heart 
into  my  work.  The  year  has  gone,  but  I  don't 
regret  it,  though  this  is  all  I  have  done." 


146  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

"You  forget  your  three  wishes;  I  think  the 
year  has  granted  them." 

"What  were  they?" 

"  To  possess  beauty  in  yourself,  the  power  of 
seeing  it  in  all  things,  and  the  art  of  reproducing 
it  with  truth." 

She  colored  deeply  under  the  glance  which 
accompanied  the  threefold  compliment,  and  an 
swered  with  grateful  humility  :  -r- 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  say  so  ;  I  wish  I  could 
believe  it."  Then,  as  if  anxious  to  forget  her 
self,  she  added  rather  abruptly :  — 

"  I  hear  you  think  of  giving  your  Adam  a 
mate, — have  you  begun  yet?" 

"Yes,  my  design  is  finished,  all  but  the  face." 

"  I  should  think  you  could  image  Eve's  beauty 
since  you  have  succeeded  so  well  with  Adam's." 

"The  features  perhaps,  but  not  the  expres 
sion.  That  is  the  charm  of  feminine  faces,  a 
charm  so  subtile  that  few  can  catch  and  keep  it. 


PSYCHE'S  ART.  147 

I  want  a  truly  womanly  face,  one  that  shall  be 
sweet  and  strong  without  being  either  weak  or 
hard.  A  hopeful,  loving,  earnest  face,  with  a 
tender  touch  of  motherliness  in  it,  and  perhaps 
the  shadow  of  a  grief  that  has  softened  but  not 
saddened  it." 

"It  will  be  hard  to  find  a  face  like  that." 

"  I  don't  expect  to  find  it  in  perfection ;  but 
one  sometimes  sees  faces  which  suggest  all  this, 
and  in  rare  moments  give  glimpses  of  a  lovely 
possibility." 

"I  sincerely  hope  you  will  find  one,  then," 
said  Psyche,  thinking  of  the  dinner. 

"Thank  you  ;  /think  I  have." 

Now,  in  order  that  every  one  may  be  suited, 
we  will  stop  here,  and  leave  our  readers  to 
finish  the  story  as  they  like.  Those  who  prefer 
the  good  old  fashion  may  believe  that  the  hero 
and  heroine  fell  in  love,  were  married  and  lived 
happily  ever  afterward.  But  those  who  can 


148  PSYCHE'S  ART. 

conceive  of  a  world  outside  of  a  wedding-ring 
may  believe  that  the  friends  remained  faithful 
friends  all  their  lives,  while  Paul  won  fame  and 
fortune,  and  Psyche  grew  beautiful  with  the 
beauty  of  a  serene  and  sunny  nature,  happy  in 
duties  which  became  pleasures,  rich  in  the  art 
which  made  life  lovely  to  herself  and  others. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY—  TEL.  NO.  642-3405 
This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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